


To Live a Life With No Regrets

by jacksparrow589



Series: Love Unfolds From a Burgeoning Friendship [2]
Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergent, F/M, Gen, Idiots in Love, Ka'kwet actually gets a happy resolution, Mutual Pining, Season/Series 03, Shirbert, kind of a fix-fic, their inability to speak about their feelings is the hypotenuse here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22250245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacksparrow589/pseuds/jacksparrow589
Summary: How the rest of season 3 might have gone for Anne and Gilbert if Winnie had gracefully exited the love triangle earlier on, only to let Anne and Gilbert's inability to acknowledge their feelings to themselves or each other take her place.
Relationships: Diana Barry & Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe & Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley, Ka'kwet & Anne Shirley, Marilla Cuthbert & Matthew Cuthbert & Anne Shirley
Series: Love Unfolds From a Burgeoning Friendship [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1601713
Comments: 183
Kudos: 431





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not that I didn't love Winnie as a character, but I was hoping things would go differently; that she'd twig that Gilbert's heart lay with Anne and wouldn't put up with being a distant second and would put a stop to their flirtation quickly. (I also hoped that she'd become friends with Anne, but alas, I was not able to shoehorn that in here.) This is a very Anne-and-Gilbert-centric story, so you won't really see any of the scenes that didn't have at least one of them. Also, there are some events that go pretty much the same way they did in the show, because Winnie's lack of presence doesn't really affect much except for Anne and Gilbert's relationship.
> 
> Starts season 3 after episode 4 (well, at the end) with Winnie telling Gilbert she’s certain he’ll go far and wishing him the best of luck, and declining when Gilbert asks her to visit. After this, she will make no further appearances.
> 
> Part of the "Love Unfolds From a Burgeoning Friendship" series—please go back and read "Grant That I May Not So Much Seek to be Consoled as to Console" if you have not read that before! (Or if you need a refresher.)

"But you could… perhaps visit?"

Winnie smiled softly and shook her head. "I fear I may have given you the wrong impression, Mister Blythe. It has been quite enjoyable teaching you about the niceties of sharing tea with ladies, make no mistake. But whilst you are quite the young gentleman and your aspirations are incredibly admirable, there is something that I can't quite put my finger on, but I suspect we are… less well-suited than either of us had hoped." She sighed quietly as Gilbert just stared miserably at her. "It's upsetting, believe me, but far better to figure it out now and end it amicably than to part on less desirable terms after more feelings get more involved." She smiled, just a hint of sadness in her eyes. "I think there's hope for you yet."

Gilbert certainly didn't feel like it. He liked spending time with Winnie. She was so comfortably easy to be with; all she had expected of him was decency. (But was that what he really wanted? Someone who had such an easy-to-meet expectation?)

She was forgiving of his mistakes as he learned the finer points of flirting. (Though it was almost unsettling how smoothly she handled it. Unless he really caught her off-guard, he'd never know how upset she really might be with a gaffe.)

Anne had, on occasion, talked about Diana's life; about the expectations of an upper-class young lady to marry early and marry well, and to be what her husband wanted and needed her to be. _I'm sure someone wants that life, but Diana doesn't,_ she'd said miserably. Winnie was wonderfully high-spirited and carefree, but only as far as she could get away with sneakily breaking the rules imposed by society. She'd never hop a freight car to get light bulbs to save the reputation of a teacher who so flagrantly flaunted the rules laid out for her. Yes, Winnie was lovely and refreshingly straightforward, and she would make a wonderful wife to a man who enjoyed just enough eccentricity. Try though he might to ignore the confusing feelings he had regarding Anne, Gilbert had the sinking (and yet somehow incredibly buoying) feeling that "just eccentric enough" wouldn't _be_ enough for him.

"I see you're still coming to grips with this." Winifred delicately blotted her lips with her napkin. "I think it would be best if I left." She stood. "It has been a pleasure, Mister Blythe. I do hope we cross paths again someday, and furthermore, that when we do, you will be truly happy."

"And you, as well, Miss Rose," replied Gilbert, briefly taking Winifred's hand in only the most societally appropriate way. Winifred nodded and departed, leaving Gilbert probably looking jilted and foolish, he was aware. There was some accuracy to that supposition, just not in the way most would think.

Gilbert sighed and rose to leave, meandering through Charlottetown and back to Dr. Ward's. Winnie was conspicuously absent, not that Dr. Ward noticed, given that he had found and was tending to Bash, and not that Gilbert cared as much as he'd thought he would.

The pair traveled to the train station and spent most of the ride in fairly stony silence. It was, very characteristically, Bash who broke it. "So, Miss Rose is lovely," he said quietly.

Gilbert nodded. "Quite."

Either not noticing Gilbert's terseness or just not caring, Bash went on to ask, "She refused you?"

Gilbert didn't answer, instead thanking his (relatively) good fortune that Aunt Jo had agreed to have Cole escort Anne back in light of Gilbert's needing to leave due to Bash's state. This was not a discussion he'd want to be having with anyone else around, but especially not Anne.

Bash tilted his head just a little. "Come on, Blythe. I might be concussed, but I'm no fool."

"We wouldn't be right for each other. Not the way you—not the way a married couple should be." He'd been about to say "not the way you and Mary are", but they no longer were. Gilbert sighed heavily, a wave of grief washing over him.

"You can say how you feel, you know," Bash told him.

Gilbert shook his head. "It's not fair."

Bash sighed. "No, it's not."

Gilbert gave Bash a look. "No, I mean it's not fair for me to mourn something that never really existed when—"

"Did you have feelings?" interrupted Bash.

Gilbert blinked. "Well, yes, but—"

"Then you're mourning something that existed. And you're allowed. If all we did was allow the worst grief to exist, we'd be miserable." Bash chuckled darkly. "Not that I'm not miserable now, but I don't want to be for the rest of my life. That's no way to live. You have to find the light, Blythe. You're allowed your darkest feelings, but you're also allowed your lightest ones, too, even if it feels like they're happening at the wrong time."

_There's a time for fair, Gilbert, and this isn't it._ Anne's words echoed in his head. "Well, at least I can say that it's not fair that you're the one doling out consolation right now."

"Like I said, I don't want to live in misery forever." Bash winced as the train squealed to a stop. "And you've seen enough of it in your young life. It's time to start living a little. Get in trouble every once in a while. I'm certainly not going to put you on latrine duty."

Gilbert let out a surprised laugh and returned the volley. "No, but you'd very happily stick me with every other unpleasant task."

"Too right, I would," Bash confirmed with just a hint of a smile. "But I guarantee you, it would be well worth your while."

Gilbert sighed, but with a ghost of his own smile. "I'll give it some thought."

* * *

Gilbert lay awake long into the night after Mary's funeral. Bash had been so exhausted that as soon as Dellie had gone down, he had retired for the night, as well. Thankfully, Dellie was sleeping through the night. Anne had been playing with her to keep her awake so she would sleep, somehow keeping the infant awake but not cranky.

"She makes the job easy," Anne had said when Gilbert had remarked on Anne's skill. The way she'd said it had made it abundantly clear there was an underlying story, but Anne didn't like to talk much about her past before Avonlea, and so Gilbert had merely accepted it and given Anne a slight smile, which she had returned as well as she could.

It wasn't the first or second or even the tenth time he'd wondered about what exactly it was Anne must have seen and gone through before coming to Avonlea. She seemed unshakable so much of the time, when rumblings about what Anne must have faced as an orphan sent into service were at best just incredibly sad, and at worst, enough to break a soul. Even Mary had seemed more scarred by her past (though having a child as young as she had admittedly probably played a large part in that, he supposed) and had gone so far as to ask Anne how she had survived. It made Anne's reaction to Gilbert's father's death make both more and less sense at the same time.

It wasn't that Anne wasn't shaken by Mary's passing. Mary had been someone for Anne to look up to—fierce and independent and able to overcome tragedy; they'd been so alike! But even then, Gilbert had been the one seeking Anne's comfort more than she'd sought his. He wondered if she was afraid of offending him again. He hoped she wasn't. Anne was one to learn from her mistakes.

No; she was giving him the space to grieve. She wasn't wrong for assuming he was closer to Mary than she was, and she'd hinted that she knew he must have seen her as a mother figure of sorts. But at the same time, that didn't mean she wasn't hurting herself. But any time Gilbert tried to give Anne the space to talk, or to be the one receiving any kindness lately, she had refused. The only day she hadn't had been the day Mary had passed.

None of them had been okay, but when Anne had showed up with Matthew and Marilla, Anne had immediately broken into tears and wrapped Bash in a hug. Bash had returned it in the same way Gilbert had hugged her that terrible day he'd had to break the news to Mary.

Gilbert had been holding Delphine. Marilla offered to take the infant, leaving Gilbert feeling untethered and just entirely lost. Anne had let go of Bash and, perhaps not knowing what else to do, had instead wrapped her arms around Gilbert's neck. He'd returned her embrace without thinking, but there had been some small part of him thinking that he could at least do this. He couldn't have saved anyone, but he could be there, and that was what he had to focus on, or he would fall apart entirely again.

Maybe that didn't count. It wasn't like he'd been offering, or that she'd thought he could comfort her; she'd just been with someone who understood her pain, and whose pain she could understand.

In the week since, she'd turned the conversation back to how Gilbert was doing anytime he'd tried to offer Anne comfort. It was smooth and kind and backed by only the noblest of intentions, but it was to the point now that he wanted to do something other than grieve, the same way Bash had said he didn't want to be miserable forever.

Maybe he should just tell her that. Anne appreciated directness, after all.

Yes, that was what he would do when the opportunity presented itself.

* * *

There was a difference between spying and overhearing, and Gilbert wasn't sure he couldn't be accused of both at the moment.

He had been wandering in search of Anne, as she was helping watch Dellie while he and Bash worked. At the moment, he needed a break, and between Dellie's smiles and coos and Anne's mere existence (when they weren't quarreling, anyway, and that was happening far less frequently than it had), he knew he could find respite with them. He supposed it wasn't too surprising that he found them at Mary's grave. Anne chatting to Mary as though she were right there, and in a way, he supposed, she was.

"...and now that I know, well, I feel so much lighter. I feel as though I can move through the world a little more easily now." Anne sniffled. "But there are still so many mysteries. Marilla helped me send a letter to find if I might have any living relatives back in Scotland. And I still just know so little, and that's hard." She wiped her eyes and looked up to the sky. "Thank you for listening. You were in many ways a mother I never knew, and I hope that Bash and Gilbert and Marilla and Matthew and I can show Dellie the love that honors yours for her."

Gilbert pulled off his glove and swiped the back of his hand across his eyes. Anne's way with words was truly singular, and though there was sadness in her words, the joy and hope in them was equally infectious.

He strolled up, hoping Anne would read any residual sadness his expression as grief over Mary and not as having overheard her. "Thought I might find you here."

Anne smiled a little grimly. "I know it might be considered morbid, but talking to Mary in the house just doesn't feel right, and it's not like I can visit my own parents' graves this easily—oh, I didn't tell you, did I? I found records of them. They... did indeed pass away when I was three months old. They'd emigrated from Scotland before I was born, so as far as I know, I have no blood relations in Canada, but I'm hoping maybe there will be more information in Scotland." Anne wiped her eyes. "I don't want to hope too much, but even if... if there is no news, I have family here, and that's what has to matter."

Gilbert smiled at her. "I'm glad you've found some trace of them, at least. I know you won't want me to bring up the memory, but honestly, I've tried to put myself in your shoes as you put yourself in mine after my father died. I understood where you were coming from even then, you know."

Anne grimaced. "I know," she sighed. "Still, if I'd perhaps stopped to think a bit earlier..."

"You wouldn't be you. You were speaking with the best of intentions. I appreciate that you've perhaps learned to be a bit more circumspect over the years, but when a thing needs to be said, Avonlea can still count on you to say it." Gilbert took off his gloves to take Dellie, who was reaching for him.

Anne knotted her hands in her lap, her smile still uncomfortable, but softening as she watched Gilbert bounce Delphine on his knees while responding to her babbles in a particularly warm, tender tone of voice she rarely heard any other time. In the couple of weeks since Mary's passing, she'd come to see a facet of Gilbert that she suspected few were so privileged to glimpse. He'd been a good friend before—the residents of their homes had certainly grown closer over the last two years—but things had been changing even more rapidly of late. Her heart had started fluttering when Gilbert's hand brushed hers, and his gaze had been unsettling before, but instead of a pit in her stomach, there was a fluttering sensation when she caught him staring, or worse, when he caught her staring.

Which, naturally, was what was happening at the moment. And worse, instead of asking her if she was alright, or even just giving her a question look, he was smiling back at her. Anne took a sharp breath and turned to look at the stones in the plot. She thought she heard Gilbert sigh quietly before he cleared his throat. "I suppose I'd better get back to work." He handed Dellie back to Anne, and Anne had to will herself not to flinch when her fingers brushed Gilbert's. She liked the spark, as much as she didn't want to.

"Um, I'll have some tea ready for you in an hour or so... I'll come find you," she offered.

Gilbert gave her a more normal smile—one he would give anyone else. "Sounds good. Thank you, Anne. Really."

Anne nodded, allowing her own smile to form. "You're welcome."

Gilbert watched her walk away, sighing. He hadn't told her, after all, but he hadn't had to. She'd let him in this time; she'd told him what was going through her head, and she'd listened when he'd explained what he meant. It was an improvement. Maybe there was hope for things to return to normal after all.


	2. Chapter 2

A warm Sunday afternoon in early May saw Anne and Gilbert sitting out on the front porch of the Blythe-LaCroix home. Anne was watching Dellie try to push herself to her hands and knees on a towel behind and between herself and Gilbert while Gilbert worked on an essay. He was throwing ideas at Anne as they finished up a quick afternoon snack.

"I'm telling you, it's a devastatingly beautiful ode to the wonders of the natural world!" Anne was arguing.

"And I'm telling _you_ , it's a vast oversimplification and romanticization of a fool getting lost in the woods and trying and failing to turn it into a profound experience!" Gilbert was insisting.

"I've told you about the story club and the cliff overlooking the bay—you've been to both those places. How could you not find them magical?!" These places so special to Anne had been the subject of conversation in previous weeks. The cliff overlooking the bay was one Gilbert certainly knew from his own wanderings with his father. The story club, he'd heard bits and pieces about before. He'd stumbled upon it one Sunday while Bash and Mary were newly married and he'd just had to get out of the house for a bit, and he'd known it must have been Anne's. It had pained him to see it in ruins, and the fight Cole had had with Billy had made a lot of sense after that. When Anne had finally spoken about it, he knew what he must have found.

Gilbert sighed. " _Those_ places are, as you say, magical. I'm not arguing against that; I'm arguing that _this piece_ falls short of inspiring that feeling in _me_."

Anne huffed a sigh and rolled her eyes. "I thought you had some imagination. Look around you; your livelihood is based on trusting that the earth will return bounty from the littlest seeds you put into it! How can you not find that beautiful?" Anne caught Dellie as the little girl flopped down on her belly a little too hard and started to wail.

"Again, I find _that_ beautiful; I just find being so unprepared that you get lost in a forest to and wind up unsure that you'll make it out alive beyond foolish!" Gilbert started writing.

Anne rolled her eyes. "Fine. Write that essay. We'll see whose is read aloud as correct."

"It's literary criticism, Anne; we'll both make top marks and Miss Stacy will read someone else's aloud because, let's be honest, it's a little boring to keep reading our fights aloud to the class. You heard Josie grumbling last week!" Gilbert hadn't looked up at all.

"As though I care what Josie Pye thinks of my writing," Anne grumbled, having finally soothed Dellie.

Gilbert grinned. "As though you care what _anyone_ thinks of your writing."

He was not expecting what Anne said next. She'd gone quiet; almost speculative. "Growing up in an orphanage, I suppose I had to be that way." She gave Gilbert a rueful smile. "I wasn't exactly well-liked at the orphanage or in previous places. I used books and my own imagination as an escape. Avonlea… Josie Pye might not like me, but compared to the older girls at the orphanage, she rivals Ruby in terms of having a sweet disposition."

Gilbert let out a low whistle. "That's saying something."

Anne nodded. "It's not that there hasn't been cruelty here; it's that I've faced it all before, and here, well, I know there are people who love me. Who have my back." She hugged Dellie. "I'm just glad this little one won't face that fate. Marilla was fuming the other day about Mrs. Lynde trying to get Bash married off since 'two men can't handle a baby and a farm on their own'—as though we're getting tired of helping you! But I digress—nobody deserves to grow up that way; not when there's an alternative. I've seen…" Anne took a deep breath and tried again. "I've seen fathers drop off their children and tell the matron to… to say that they died. I've seen mothers threaten to send their children to an orphanage because they know how miserable it is. I've—" _I've been told nobody will ever want me._ She shook her head vigorously, her braids flying. "It's not right, to sentence someone to a childhood without love like that! People have said th—that it's made me who I am and maybe that's true, but I'd like to think that if I'd had that love, I would have turned out much the same."

"You would have." Gilbert said it so immediately, but with so much certainty despite his casual tone that Anne couldn't help but believe him. She discreetly wiped her eyes as Gilbert turned back to his essay, graciously pretending not to notice.

Anne leaned back against the house, watching Gilbert work on his essay, studying his features as he paused here or there, lips moving silently as he tried to figure what word to slot in next. Finally, he finished writing the essay and began to work on math. Anne had very little to say about the subject, other than to remember the methods to use for certain exercises when Gilbert asked.

She wondered if he was doing it to be polite. He was better at math than she was rather consistently. He'd pointed out once that this was only due to her distaste for the rigidity and relative dryness of the subject, and that she always seemed to know precisely what she was doing; she just didn't want to do it.

For her part, Anne had had very mixed feelings about being appraised so directly and accurately. Gilbert's faith in her abilities was as heartening as it ever was, but something in her prickled at effectively being told she could do better if she just wanted to. It was, she thought, an indirect nod to their competition, which was odd because Gilbert never really seemed to take it seriously.

Maybe she shouldn't, either. After all, they knew where they were headed. A doctor and a teacher hardly needed to be in competition. But the idea left Anne with a longing ache in her chest. They didn't need to be in competition, but to not have something other than basic friendship between them felt wrong.

Pushing the idea from her mind, she began to speculate aloud. "Honestly, I think if students were in a classroom with those different from them, they might learn more empathy. Maybe someday, I'll teach in a classroom with students with more diverse backgrounds. Perhaps I'll even have some Mi'kmaq students." She sighed. "I'd like to go back and actually see Ka'kwet at the residential school. She must be missing her family terribly, but she must also have learned so much by now!" Anne's eyes sparkled with promise.

"The residential school?"

"Mrs. Lynde suggested that Ka'kwet go and learn to read and write and learn more about us so that the Mi'kmaq might have better relations with us." Anne fidgeted a bit. "I tried to stop by after I went to the local parish in Nova Scotia to see if they had any records of my parents' fate. Cole and Aunt Jo helped, ah, disguise me so I wouldn't get any questions about being a young girl alone, though why that should keep me from accessing records about my own parents, I have no idea."

"Disguise you?" Gilbert had dropped all pretense of working. "Please, go on."

Anne hesitated, trying to figure out how much she should tell him. "I borrowed an outfit Aunt Jo had, and she and Cole arranged my hair so it was up." She smiled involuntarily at the memory, not noticing Gilbert's quick shake of his head as he wondered what Anne must have looked like. "I scarcely recognized the young woman in the mirror. I'd like to imagine I looked like my mother, though I don't actually know which of my parents had red hair… Anyway, I went to the church, and I was granted access to their records, and, well, you already know the rest from there."

Gilbert tilted his head and let out a quiet chuckle. "You say that that like it was any other day. This is _you_ we're talking about, Anne; I know there's more to the story, and I'd give anything to have been there and seen it happen."

An angry flush started on Anne's cheeks. "You think I couldn't pull it off?"

"I'm saying exactly the opposite, Anne!" Gilbert retorted, just a little frustrated. " _You_ were the one to run into the Gillis house and shut the doors and windows so the fire couldn't grow. _You_ were the one who saved Minnie May when she was dying of croup. _You_ were the one who didn't give up on saving Miss Stacy's job. Of _course_ I believe that you could find a record of your parents like you did! You have been through so much, and you have never given up. You have the strongest, bravest heart of anyone I know, and I admire that about you more than I could ever say."

_It means 'a strong and brave heart',_ Ka'kwet had said. Anne gaped at him for a moment, a blush of shame as much as pure astonishment creeping across her cheeks. "I… I'm sorry I snapped." She bit her lip. "Thank you. Hearing that from you… it means a lot." 

_Why from me specifically?_ Gilbert wanted to ask, but he'd already pushed too far for one afternoon, he thought. "Just… remember that, okay?" he asked, before looking back down at his math assignment.

Anne made a vague noise of agreement, having noticed that she was not the only one whose cheeks had gone rosy. "I…  How did you know about Minnie May, anyway?" she asked, too curious to not seek the answer.

Gilbert didn't look up. "Mrs. Kincannon heard about it around town. She told my dad. He asked me if you were constantly saving people in distress." He smirked slightly. "I told him that missing school hardly put me in _that_ much distress. What?!" he asked as Anne snorted her disagreement.

"I suppose it's not on the same level as croup, but honestly, Gilbert, had I not delivered your schoolwork, I might have surpassed you. Deny it all you want, but I'm sure that, absent my magnanimity, you'd be only the second best student in Avonlea. Your sterling reputation would be in shambles." Anne bounced Dellie on her knees, and Dellie let out a giggle. "See? She agrees."

Gilbert rolled his eyes, but laughed. "Pretend you would have made any other choice all you like, Anne; in addition to abundant strength and bravery, you are the kindest person I know."

Anne wasn't sure what to say that. Thankfully, at that moment, a convenient excuse presented itself. "Oh, Dellie…" Anne made a face. "Someone's nappy needs changing."

"Have fun with that," Gilbert said absently as he turned back to his work, chuckling as Anne stuck her tongue out at him before heading inside to change Dellie.

Bash chose that moment to make himself known. "Done flirting now?"

Gilbert fumbled his pen, but did his best to just sound exasperated rather than flustered. "Is that just what you're calling congenial discourse now?"

"When it's between Anne and you and crosses over into actual flirting? Yes, I call it that because it _is_." Bash sighed. "Someday, Blythe, you'll tell me I was right, and I will tease you mercilessly." 

"Because you're not doing that now?" Gilbert's retort dripped with sarcasm.

"I see I've touched a nerve." Bash  _tsk_ -ed quietly. "You'll accept it eventually. I just hope it's before you break each other's hearts."  He went into the house, and Gilbert had a moment of alarm that he might start in  on Anne, but when Bash reappeared with a glass of water a moment later, Gilbert relaxed and turned back to his work once more,  putting the conversation out of his mind.

Anne reappeared fifteen minutes later with a contentedly snoozing Dellie. Anne herself sat back against the porch and closed her eyes against the sun, which still just touched the one corner of the porch.

He'd seen Anne in the sun hundreds of times, but the way it glanced off her hair and highlighted her current dusting of freckles always left him struggling for both air and coherent thought just a little. The memory of ever having called her "Carrots" caused a sharp pang of shame. He hadn't been proud of it even in the moment, but seeing her like this always gave him the urge to apologize. He'd already done so a while back, and she'd laughed it off, having been in a good mood that day.

Minor snapping today aside, they'd gotten along better lately.

_"A lady knows when she's being used to soothe the hurt dealt by another…"_

He hadn't thought about Winnie as much as he'd thought he would. He'd idly wondered here and there, but he hadn't really felt the urge to seek her out like he'd expected to. She'd written him a note, but it had been at the behest of Doctor Ward, telling him to come back if he ever changed his mind—that there would always be a place open for him. He'd been a little excited to see the note, but he hadn't been as disappointed as he'd expected to find the note impersonal. Realizing that had been odd.

Even Bash's teasing about Winnie hadn't hit him like it always had when it was about Anne.

Gilbert had assumed his fascination with Anne would fade someday; that she'd stop surprising him quite as much, or that he'd become accustomed to her singular enthusiasm for life and nature and literature. He hadn't thought he'd get _bored_ of her, per se, but that maybe she'd stop inadvertently bewitching him, because she certainly didn't mean to; he knew that much. But nearly three years after they'd met she had the same effect she'd ever had, and he'd almost come to depend on it. He'd certainly come to appreciate it.

Anne stirred just a bit, and Gilbert quickly shifted his focus back to the last of the math problems. He finished it relatively quickly and gathered his things up, standing and moving as softly as he could so as not to disturb Anne.

His efforts apparently weren't enough when Anne asked hazily, "Are you just going to leave Dellie and me sleeping out here, then?"

"No," he replied, opening the door to put his school things inside before coming over to sit by Anne and taking Dellie, rocking her gently as she stirred and let out a tiny mewl of protest at having her nap disturbed. "But I didn't want to disturb you until I had to."

Anne yawned. "You're always so considerate."

Gilbert let out a confused laugh before asking, "Is that a bad thing?"

"Not at all." Anne tilted her head. "I can just see why you—why you're so well-liked," she finished quickly. Something had shifted mid-sentence. Anne had suddenly been more awake, and she'd withdrawn just a bit.

"It's taken you almost three years to figure that out?" Gilbert teased.

Anne laughed. "I'm debating whether to say yes just to deflate that ego of yours a bit."

"Well, now that you've told me your master plan, I doubt it would have the same effect," Gilbert pointed out.

"Very true. Ah, well, there will be other chances." Anne stretched and rose to her feet. She offered her hands to take Delphine, but Gilbert shook his head and slowly but steadily got to his feet. "...Do you need anything else before I go?" she wanted to know.

Gilbert couldn't be sure, but it sounded as though Anne  _hoped_ the answer was yes. He cycled through potential small asks in his head. Not coming up with anything  that would not clearly be an excuse, he shook his head. "No… but Bash got annoyed with me the last time you left without letting him thank you, so I suppose we can go find him."  It wasn't actually a lie as such; Bash had remarked on Anne's general avoidance of being thanked the other week.

Anne nodded and smiled her agreement. "Lead on."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of those chapters with a good bit of overlap with what occurred in the show, but I absolutely could NOT give up that dance scene in any way. You have been forewarned.

Anne was disappointed that the class's nature walks had been canceled for the foreseeable future, but with Moody's injury, it couldn't be helped. At least their encounter with the Mi'kmaq had provided a topic of endless chatter, though Anne and Gilbert were having a difficult time persuading many of their classmates regarding the trustworthiness of their neighbors. The best they got from most of the classmates who agreed with them was silent looks of encouragement when they tried to argue that Moody had indeed been helped by their presence more than Gilbert would have been able to do on his own. Miss Stacy was staying out of it, but at least Moody was vocally in Anne and Gilbert's camp most of the time.

The upcoming county fair was providing ample distraction. As the children buzzed about before school one morning, Gilbert and Anne were, naturally, inside reading the papers with Miss Stacy, who might possibly have been happier about having the papers herself than that students were paying attention to them, not that she'd ever tell them that.

An article had caught Gilbert's eye. "Medical research at the Sorbonne in Paris." He scanned the first few lines of the article. "Funny, Doctor Ward mentioned antitoxins last month."

"What's an antitoxin?" Anne was rapt.

"It's a new kind of preventative medicine. It seems to be working, from the look of it. Even though Doctor Ward called it 'nonsense'…" Gilbert said the word with a short toss of the head that made clear what his feelings were about his mentor's opinion.

Anne let out a soft laugh, but it was Miss Stacy who spoke up. "Most people have a hard time trusting new ideas." She turned to Gilbert, addressing him specifically. "The Sorbonne is an excellent university."

"And thousands of miles and dollars away," lamented Gilbert.

"I know a doctor named Emily Oak who's doing similar work and the University of Toronto," Miss Stacy told him, catching Anne's attention as well.

"A female doctor?" Anne interjected, fascinated.

"Perhaps you could write to her, Gilbert," Miss Stacy advised. "I expect she could guide you toward Canadian universities specializing in medical research."

Gilbert nodded. "Thank you. I'll take you up on that."

As always, Anne was already onto the next thing. "Just look at these obituaries! So many incredible lives… Makes me wish my own parents had been remembered the same way so I might have known something about them." Gilbert came to stand over by Anne to take a look. They'd been good about sharing interests of late, and Anne had just listened to him prattle on about medical jargon that he knew wasn't terribly fascinating to her (though the idea of a female doctor had certainly caught her attention). "Perhaps we should write an obituary for Mary in the Avonlea Gazette… for Delphine!"

Gilbert had to smile at Anne's infectious enthusiasm.

"That's a lovely idea!" Miss Stacy chimed in.

"It is!" agreed Gilbert. "I'll ask Bash; see what he thinks about it."

Neither was sure if the other was about to say anything more, but before it could be decided either way, Diana dashed in. "Anne! You're on the board! Charlie noticed you!"

_Oh, I am staying out of this mess._ Gilbert felt a little bad about bowing out given that Anne was very loud about not being keen on the notice board, but Diana was more capable of assisting Anne without making anyone think the two of them were courting.

Anne grabbed Diana's hand and scrambled off, nearly barreling into Charlie, but deftly excusing herself and settling into her and Diana's usual seats, grumbling about how tomorrow's dance practice had eclipsed everything else and getting only the vaguest sympathy from Diana. Eventually, Anne gave up when Miss Stacy started their lessons for the day, and Anne was, for the moment, able to forget what was coming.

* * *

The first attempt at dance practice had not gone well at all. Currently, the boys and the girls were clustered at opposite ends of the schoolhouse.

Anne was biting her lip against Ruby's misinformation. If holding hands with a boy got you pregnant, she would have been several times over since Mary's passing. She didn't know what exactly it was that caused pregnancy, and while she knew the "pet mouse" explanation didn't hold up, there had to be more to it. She couldn't very well point out that Ruby was wrong without coming under scrutiny herself, though, and she couldn't think of any reasonable lie.

Miss Stacy cut in, but her explanation left Anne no less lost on the topic than she had been before. Mercifully, it was enough to get them back to dancing. (Anne could hardly believe she found it a mercy, but such was life.)

She hadn't realized she was holding Gilbert's gaze until he'd taken a turn with Jane and Anne found herself desperately trying to find him again… and realizing he was doing the same.

"...Now all three lines re-form! And together, two, three, four, and away… And sweep through raised arms…" Mrs. Lynde's directions immediately faded as Gilbert leaned just close enough for a whispered "Nope," to be audible in her ear as he grabbed her hand and spun a laughing Anne next to him. They didn't notice Caleb, Diana, Charlie and Jane panicking to try to correctly form the lines. All Anne could see was Gilbert's smile as she placed her hand in his as he grasped it precisely the way a gentleman dancing with a lady _should_ and yet, Anne could feel her heart race past the beat Mrs. Lynde was counting out, especially when Gilbert gently tugged her hand to him while reversing their circle. Their set gave her only a moment to breathe, but taking a turn with Gilbert set back any progress she might have made, not that Anne noticed or cared, just like she didn't really notice or care that she should have perhaps been looking at Charlie during her turn with him. Even through the following reel, she did her best not to break eye contact with those lovely warm eyes of Gilbert's, and when they joined hands again, Anne could not stop smiling. After sweeping through, she was, however, surprised to wind up facing him again at the end as he bowed and she bobbed.

She'd never felt this way before. The little arcs of electricity between them up until this point had been easy to brush off as (unwillingly) getting caught up in the excitement of the notice board and all the romance it supposedly entailed. But this… this felt deeper. Something had taken root in her heart and in her mind, and she didn't know what it was or what she should do. It was terrifying and overwhelming. She ran to the cloak room, throwing on her hat and sweater as quickly as she could.

Of course, she hadn't factored into her calculations that Gilbert might be experiencing the exact same internal maelstrom and thus try to escape it the same way. Upon meeting him in the middle of the cloak room, she swallowed and fled.

A short way up the path home, Anne heard a throat clear behind her. Even though she knew the voice wasn't Gilbert's after turning to find Charlie, Anne's traitorous heart would not stop hoping.

Still, she could hardly yell at him for not being the boy she'd just run away from after going through a whole new range of extremely confusing emotions in a very short time period. "Oh. Charlie."

"Afternoon, Anne. I was wondering, um... May I walk with you a ways?" Charlie approached without really waiting to hear her answer.

"Wait… Do you mean…  _walk_ with me?"

"Yes, if that's alright."

"Of course."

* * *

Gilbert was certainly in a bit of a state, complaining about dance practice. Bash wondered if the boy had been forced to watch helplessly as Anne danced with another. Even though Gilbert had continued to deny feeling anything other than friendship for the girl, it was clear as day to Bash that something was there, if only they would allow it to happen.

"The Dashing… White… Sergeant." Gilbert punctuated each word of the title with a particularly vicious chop.

"This white sergeant, what did he do to offend you so?" Bash worked to hide his amusement.

Gilbert swept the carrot slices into a bowl. "Dancing isn't my preferred way to spend an afternoon; that's all."

_Oh really?_ Bash joked about Gilbert being humorless, but that was until you got to know him. He was studious, and usually quite serious, but when he was feeling playful, you couldn't not know it.

Heaving a discontented sigh, Gilbert continued. "I don't… I don't understand it."

Oh, there was certainly more to this story than not liking dancing. "Even those bees of yours dance. What was so confusing?"

Gilbert stopped chopping entirely and looked up. "Bees dance to communicate; not for… for fun, or courtship… or whatever we were meant to be dancing for."

_Anne is definitely involved,_ Bash thought. He had to tread lightly. At least Gilbert was opening up. "Communication is its own kind of dance. And, as you have clearly noticed, even if you're not going to tell me what this strop is all about, dancing can be a kind of communication, even among people." He gave Delphine another spoonful of food. "Dancing is, in fact, one of the more enjoyable ways to let someone know they have your attention."

Gilbert went very still for a moment.

* * *

_"...It's a way to make a casual declaration. A quiet attention," Anne explained._

_"To… someone you like," Gilbert clarified._

_Anne gave a short nod. "Yes. Not so pointed as to be alarming, and not so vague as to not be understood."_

_"A post in advance of a proper advance." This sounded like a game, and Gilbert wasn't sure he wanted to play, but if anyone was worth the exception..._

_"Exactly. Because all these little notices matter when you want to let someone know that you're thinking ahead." Anne's words felt unusually direct and unusually vague at the same time._

_"To… their future together?" Gilbert could only dare hope._

_"...Yes," Anne replied softly._

_Was this conversation really happening? Gilbert had to make sure. "So, you're suggesting… I post?"_

_Anne floundered for her answer, and babbled something about Ruby that Gilbert didn't entirely hear, already lost in utter dejection._

* * *

He shook his head and started chopping another carrot with renewed vigor.

Just for fun, because the identity of the young lady concerned with this little display of temper was as crystal clear as it always was, Bash decided to ask, "Mind telling me who this girl who's caught your fancy is? And don't try to change the subject or say there isn't one—I've been in your shoes, Blythe. I know what's going on in that brain of yours, clinical though you try to be about it."

He nearly cheered when Gilbert laughed and immediately replied, "I mind, Bash."

"You sure?" Bash jibed.

"Yep," was the immediate answer.

"How 'bout now?" It was probably farther than he should push, but Bash did genuinely want to help. Seeing Gilbert squirm when he refused to play along was also an amusing result, though.

Gilbert shot Bash a look as he shook his head. "Nope."

Bash considered just telling him he knew it had to be Anne, but that wouldn't get him anywhere it hadn't already gotten him before. Instead, he thought of a different tack. "Then tell her," he suggested, presenting Dellie to her uncle. "She won't talk."

Gilbert chuckled again, but didn't say he wouldn't. Bash supposed that had to be enough for now.

* * *

_"Anne has a question."_ Ugh, why had Josie had to pose it as Anne's?  It wasn't as though they weren't all wondering—they'd crowded close to hear the answer!

Gilbert been nothing but professional (well, as professional as one could be when accosted after church to be asked indelicate questions by young ladies, anyway), while Anne had probably been redder than she'd ever been in her life—she could swear she'd felt the blush creep down her neck to her shoulders, for goodness' sake!

And she'd just stood there like an absolute dolt and stared at him instead of dismissing him before Tillie had tried to get her to ask about the steps. God, what a mess!

_"He said 'seen'. What has he **seen**?!"_

Anne didn't want to know, and she really, really wished Ruby's question wasn't echoing around in her head because it made it awfully hard to think of anything other than Gilbert Blythe and other girls and for whatever stupid, terrible reason, that made Anne want to cry.

But maybe… maybe he'd meant Mary! Mary had certainly been intelligent and expressive of her emotions! It had hardly been three months after their wedding that she and Bash had announced Mary's pregnancy, and, after being in service so long (and hearing more than a few lectures from the Matron) Anne knew that a baby took about nine months to develop, which meant that, with Dellie having been born roughly six months after the announcement, Mary must have conceived almost immediately!

The empirical proof bolstered Anne's mood as she prepared for the Beltane celebration.

* * *

As the girls had wandered back through the woods that night, Anne had never felt more free. They had done this thing, this wonderful, sacred, wild thing, and how Anne was feeling was proof that nothing could have been more correct. She felt powerful and mystical and rooted and brave and fierce—like she could conquer the world.

For the first time, she truly, completely felt like she was Princess Cordelia. But this time, it hadn't been to escape; it had just... _been_.

She wished Mary had been there to see it. She wished Delphine had been old enough to participate. She wished… that Marilla was maybe a little less, well, Marilla, and that she might have seen the grace and hope and light in their celebration.

_How I love being a woman!_ Ruby had said. Anne could hardly agree more, but that it was sweet, emotional, and sometimes naive Ruby saying it had made it all the more powerful.

And then to see the miracle of Belle's new foal on the way inside… that had been its own treasure.

Anne had been so excited she'd barely slept. And between that and the chill of the night, naturally, she'd caught a cold.

"Really, Anne," Marilla had sighed.

"I'm _fine!_ " Anne had insisted, though it had come out rather nasal. "I don't have a fever; it's just my nose and throat."

Marilla busied herself with packing her basket to go to the Lynde house.  "Yes, well, I wouldn't want you to overexert yourself and develop one. You're to stay in today, with only light chores, and that's all I'll hear of it."

"But I'm supposed to watch Dellie!"  protested Anne, her stuffed nose giving her a bit of an extra whine that she hated.

Marilla kept packing her basket. "Matthew went out early this morning to arrange with Bash to have Gilbert bring his reading and the baby here. If she needs anything beyond the usual, you are to send Jerry to summon me from Rachel's. Is that understood?"

Anne sighed and, in a sing-song voice, answered, "Yes, Marilla."

A knock at the door sounded. Anne went to answer it, knowing full well who it would be.

"Good day Anne, Miss Cuthbert." Gilbert tipped his cap and stepped inside, hauling Dellie's basket with him.

Marilla bustled by and started to take her leave. "Good day, Gilbert. Remember, Anne—"

"I  _know_ , Marilla." Anne shut the door and leaned against it, letting out an incredibly vexed sigh.

"She's right to keep you home," Gilbert told her.

"Ugh, not you too!" Anne moaned.

Gilbert settled in, his eyes gleaming with laughter. "Your spirit is truly something to behold, Anne, but rest is important. The body expends a surprising amount of energy healing itself. If you overdo it, you'll heal more slowly, no matter the wound or illness."

Anne rolled her eyes. "If I have such energy, surely I won't notice if I exert myself just a little?"

"What, you _want_ to do chores?" Gilbert looked at her like she was crazy.

"I want to prove that I'm not useless." Anne said it matter-of-factly, but the pang the words caused in her soul was no less evident than it ever was when she was trying to show herself capable.

"If it helps, I certainly don't consider you useless. Your inquisitiveness is excellent for checking to make sure I've thought about every possible angle on an essay, or that I've properly remembered all the steps to an algebra problem. You can do that without running yourself ragged, so please Anne, for the sake of the people who worry about you, if nobody else, take care of yourself." Somewhere in his speech, Gilbert had gone from smiling to quite serious.

Anne gaped at him for a moment, and then two, and then…

" _Aaaaaah-choo!_ "

Of course.

With a smug grin, Gilbert indicated the sofa with a jerk of his head and went back to reading.

Anne lay down and crossed her arms over her chest, unable to stop thinking about what had sounded rather dangerously close to two very sincere, heartfelt compliments. Those had hit very differently ever since that damnable dance practice. Everything had. Anne had been doing her best to pretend everything was as it had been before, but it wasn't, and she didn't like it one little bit.

She'd just about lost herself in those thoughts when Gilbert piped up somewhat uncharacteristically, "Did you see that Bash has been learning to knit?"

Anne sat bolt upright. "I thought Marilla had left some supplies so she didn't have to carry them back and forth to Green Gables!" She grinned. "How's that going for him? I'd offer to give him pointers, but I doubt I'm any better."

"If you can make anything with no hole big enough to fit your hand through, you're doing better than he is," laughed Gilbert. Anne joined in, quieting down as Gilbert did. "But he'll get there, eventually. He's trying to make booties for Dellie."

Anne brought her hands to her mouth. "Oh, how sweet! I must see them when he's done! …I hope that's before we leave for Queen's," she added mischievously.

Gilbert let out a laugh of amused agreement, and as they continued to chat the rest of the afternoon, the world seemed just a little brighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't really like Anne freaking out that she might be pregnant, especially given what she's hinted to have seen/been told in season 1. I can see her pretending to in order to cover for knowledge that she should have, but it just felt... inconsistent.
> 
> Also, I actually kept Bash and Gilbert's conversation after dance practice the same as in the show until just before posting this chapter, and then I decided that, because Winnie's absence removed that particular tension, it would go a little differently.


	4. Chapter 4

Anne bent to sniff the cake, fresh out of the oven, frowning as she remembered she couldn't actually smell it. Her cold was still winding down. At least she was going to Diana's—her friend had offered to lend her a dress.

As she cleaned up and headed over to the Barry house, Anne mulled over the dance practice, hoping Charlie wouldn't try to corner her at the fair. Their walk had been entirely unenjoyable, especially with Charlie's talk of emotion and intelligence leading to infertility. And then, of course, the girls had forced her to ask Gilbert that ridiculous question after Sunday service. While Anne couldn't deny she was glad to hear the answer they'd been given, she was still supremely embarrassed to have asked, though Gilbert had been treating her no differently since then. With the other girls literally pushing her to ask, he must have known it hadn't been her idea.

Why did she care, anyway? Anne shook her head and knocked on the door. Diana only just held back for the maid to admit Anne before pulling her up to her room.

"We need to find something to complement your eyes—who knows how many dances Gilbert will stare into them for?" Diana cackled.

Anne scoffed, but she could feel a blush creeping across her cheeks. "Not this again, Diana!"

"Oh yes, this again, Anne! Everyone noticed! Why do you think Charlie wanted to walk you home? He wanted to let Gilbert know that if he wants to court you, he's going to have competition." Diana held out a dress of the palest blue that was mostly lace at the front.

"Diana, that will look divine on you!" Anne was being utterly sincere.

Diana was having none of it. "Yes, it will, and we need to find something that will be similarly becoming on you!"

Anne groaned and rolled her eyes. "Could we find something that Charlie will dislike, at least?"

"I'm sure Charlie would insist you look beautiful in anything, Anne. It's not just about what you're wearing; it's about who you are." Diana tossed aside another two dresses.

"Charlie doesn't like who I am, though!" Anne pointed out.

Diana raised her eyebrows before evilly pointing out, " _Gilbert_ does."

Anne groaned, but before she could issue a rejoinder, Minnie May flounced out of Diana's wardrobe in one of the dresses, mocking Diana for not wanting to attend finishing school. For the moment, at least, Anne was spared.

* * *

Anne gazed around the fair. Matthew had given her a dime, and she intended to use it to its fullest, but how she could know what that was if she didn't explore every corner first?

"Fancy meeting you here," a familiar voice said behind her.

Anne whipped around, smiling. "Bash! Hello!" She crouched to greet Dellie in her pram. "Where's…?"

"Securing our things. He'll be along in a moment." He gave Anne a look. "I hear you made Mary's cake recipe. I'm sure it will bring Avonlea to its knees."

"I hope so," Anne agreed, playing with Dellie's hands.

Just as Bash was getting ready to tease her just a bit about the upcoming dances just to gauge Anne's reaction, Gilbert showed up. "Hello, Anne." Bash didn't miss the way Gilbert looked Anne up and down automatically but still appreciatively, the same way he always did, though his eyes lingered on her hair. To be fair, Anne was probably the only person in attendance with unbound brilliant red hair, but even then, not everyone looked at her the way Gilbert did.

"Hi, Gilbert." Anne's greeting came out just a little shy; it seemed she had noticed she was being stared at.

"You two run along," Bash told them. "I'll be taking a leisurely stroll with this little one, and I'm not sure Miss Anne here can stay calm for that long."

Anne laughed and Gilbert gave Bash a look, but the two walked away into the main thoroughfare.

"Oh!" Anne swatted Gilbert's arm with the back of her hand to get his attention. "Look!"

Miss Stacy was shooting targets, and doing a fantastic job by all accounts. The local ladies gathered were clearly scandalized, but for whatever reason, had chosen not to look away. The gentlemen seemed impressed.

"Just when she couldn't get anymore amazing…" Anne sighed as they continued on.

"Miss Stacy has certainly brought a breath of fresh air to Avonlea,"Gilbert agreed. He took a breath to say something else when a nearby vendor cried, "Young man, how about something for your flame-haired sweetheart?"

"Oh, I'm not—" Anne corrected at the same time as Gilbert started with "She's not my—" only for both of them to stop when they saw what was being sold.

A colorful array of ribbon and paper rosettes littered the table. Utterly transfixed, Anne walked over to the table. "These are… wonderful," she breathed. She traced a royal blue ribbon rosette reverently with a finger before a paper rose caught her attention. Its petals were from three different patterned papers: butterflies, flowers, and maps. "Oh, this is…" She bit her lip. "How much for both?"

"The ribbon is five cents, and the paper is ten." The proprietress looked expectantly at Anne.

Anne pulled out the dime. "I'll… just take this one," she decided, pointing at the paper rose.

"You're certain? I think both may have been meant for you," the proprietress wheedled. "I can lower it to two cents for the ribbon."

Anne shook her head. "Ten cents is all I have. But this is worth it." She went to lay down her coin and pick up the paper rose when Gilbert's hand came down next to hers with two pennies. "I'll spot you the two cents." His tone was cheerful enough, but it was clear it wasn't an offer.

Anne turned to him. "Gilbert, I can't—"

Gilbert shook his head and interrupted, "You've been watching Dellie on weekends for weeks and taking nothing in return. Bash would do the same."

Anne wanted to protest that he wouldn't, but she wasn't sure. Bash was incredibly kind, and more than once, he'd expressed an interest in giving Anne a little something for her help, but Anne had staunchly refused, saying he could give her honey and apples when the time came to collect them if he felt so moved. Bash had pointed out that their households routinely exchanged harvest goods, so it was hardly payment, but he knew Anne would find a way to return any payment he gave her, so he'd dropped it. "Thank you," she whispered. With a gentle smile, Gilbert picked up the blue ribbon and handed it to her.

The seller rolled her eyes. These two had said they weren't sweethearts? Unlikely. "Come here, Miss. Allow me to secure that in your hair—I have a spare pin."

Anne went and stood in front of the seller as the woman tied the decoration into Anne's hair just above the bow Anne wore. Anne caught Gilbert's eye and shot him a smile that was both grateful and still a little embarrassed. Interestingly, she noticed, his expression seemed to mirror the one she expected she wore.

"There. Lovely. Spin around," she instructed Anne, who somewhat reluctantly did as she was told. Directing her attention to Gilbert, the seller asked, "Does it meet with your approval?" Gilbert nodded once, no happier about being put on the spot than Anne was. The seller beamed at the pair. "Thank you very much, my dears. Good day."

Anne and Gilbert both nodded and bid her the same and continued on their way. Anne was silently examining the paper rose. Gilbert held out his hand. "May I see?"

Anne handed it over, careful not to let her fingers touch his. "Thank you again. You didn't have to."

"I know." There was something hard in Gilbert's tone. Anne didn't think he was angry or regretful, but she didn't know what else it could be.

"I just… don't know what else to say," she admitted.

Gilbert's eyes softened. "A speechless Anne Shirley-Cuthbert? That's a first," he quipped, a grin starting at the corners of his mouth. "You needn't say anything else, Anne. This is my thanks to you, remember?"

"Yours and Bash's?" Anne reminded him.

Gilbert nodded quickly and opened his mouth to speak when a candy apple vendor called out to them. "You two look like you ought to be sharing a candy apple!"

"Keep going like we didn't hear?" Anne murmured out of the corner of her mouth. Gilbert nodded subtly, and they picked up the pace.

* * *

After trying to converse while being called to several more times, the pair finally took a turn by the vegetable competition so that Gilbert could see the radish Anne had told him about without being hassled.

"After that gauntlet, I can't imagine there won't be some kind of mistaken post about us on the notice board," Anne grumbled.

"I'm just going to keep pretending it doesn't exist," Gilbert told her.

"Thereby further breaking Ruby's heart," Anne joked before adding, "She actually hasn't posted about you as much lately."

Gilbert let out a relieved sigh. "She's a nice girl, but after years of her pining…"

Anne laughed. "I'm starting to understand how you feel. Still, I'd rather have that assumed about you and me than about Charlie and me."

"Would you, now?" Gilbert asked almost breathlessly, raising an eyebrow.

"I-I…" Anne stammered. "I just mean that—that, um…"

Something clicked in Gilbert's brain. "Was he the one who put that idea in your head about emotion and infertility?"

Relieved to have an out, indelicate as it was, Anne nodded. "Yes! Yes, that was him."

Gilbert shook his head. "Idiot. Charlie, I mean." He chuckled. "I'm amazed you haven't cracked _him_ with your slate."

"I do have _some_ manner of decorum now, you know," Anne chided.

"There is nothing wrong with putting an obstinate fool in his place, Anne," Gilbert told her sincerely.

Anne was trying to figure out a rejoinder when the baking judging was announced. Happy for a distraction, Anne hurried off, Gilbert on her heels.

* * *

"Anne!"

Anne didn't know where she was headed, but she had to get away. What had gone wrong?

" _Anne!_ "

Something in Gilbert's voice made her stop running. Anne buried her face in her hands. Gilbert placed a hand on her shoulder and walked around in front of her. "Anne, what happened?!"

Anne shook her head. "I don't know!" she cried, her heart breaking. "I followed the recipe… maybe I got an ingredient wrong since I was sick?" She sniffled. "I just… that was so humiliating…"

"I know." Gilbert sighed. "Maybe you can make it again? Just to prove to yourself you can. I'd love to try it."

Anne looked up at him, but before she could say anything, Gilbert looked over her shoulder and immediately dropped the hand he'd had there to his side.

"Anne!" Marilla hurried over. "What on earth…"

"I don't know!" Anne wailed again as a new wave of distress overcame her. "I thought I was doing everything right… I even found the spare vanilla bottle in the pantry after the first one broke when you went outside when Matthew yelled—" She cut herself off as Marilla gasped and wrapped her in a hug.

"Oh, Anne, I'm afraid that's my fault. I put some liniment in that bottle since it was the only spare I could find when I needed it…" Marilla shook her head.

Anne made the connection. "And I couldn't smell the difference because I was sick! Oh, Marilla!" Anne had to laugh, and Marilla joined in as she hugged Anne.

"I'm so sorry, Anne…" Marilla looked around. "Perhaps, as a treat and an apology, you'd like to…" She took a deep breath and steeled herself. "Go up in the hot air balloon?"

Anne's eyes sparkled. "Oh, Marilla, really?! I would love to!" She squeezed Marilla back. "Thank you! I'll go get Matthew."

Marilla laughed as Anne rushed off before turning to Gilbert. "I don't suppose you want to join us?"

Gilbert shook his head. "Not at all, Miss Cuthbert. I prefer for my feet to remain firmly on the ground. But thank you for the offer all the same."

"Would that I had given myself that option," Marilla mumbled. "Anne certainly does have a way of drawing people into more adventure than they'd anticipated."

"That, she does." Gilbert gazed fondly as Anne returned with Matthew, who looked at least a little more thrilled than Marilla to be going up in the balloon.

After the Cuthberts and Anne had clambered into the balloon and it had started rising into the air, Anne waved excitedly down at Gilbert, who laughed and returned her wave until she stopped and looked out over Avonlea and beyond, seeing as though for the first time. Long after she returned to the ground, her eyes lit up as she chattered about the magic of the experience to anyone who would listen. It was an afternoon she would truly never forget.

* * *

Anne seemed to be in higher spirits still when by the time the dancing began that evening. Diana dragged her into a group with Ruby and Charlie and a reluctant Paul, as Tillie's group had the other and had filled before he could claim a spot.

"Gilbert, come on!" Diana hollered, thoroughly enjoying herself and earning glares from both Anne and Charlie. "Here, Paul, you stand here with Ruby and me, and when we re-form sets, we'll be in Tillie's."

As she had the other day, Anne stood between Charlie and Gilbert and prayed her face wasn't too red just yet. Dancing would excuse it afterward, but not before.

She had a moment of panic as the music started and Diana shot her a sly grin as Anne put her hand in Gilbert's. Anne managed to roll her eyes and pretend as though her heart wasn't already pounding again. But when it came time to set and turn with Gilbert, she couldn't help the smile that blossomed of its own accord in response to Gilbert's. She tried to tell herself it was just because he was a good dancer, and not at all because she might have had a dream— _nightmare, really_ —that he'd held her hands the same way that he was holding them now, but there was no music or dancing; only them.

It had been terrible. Just terrible. She hadn't been able to get back to sleep for hours afterward, and she feared tonight would be much the same if things continued at this rate.

Anne was lost in her thoughts as she turned with Charlie, but as they went into the reel, she noticed Gilbert's smile had turned confused and concerned. Anne did her best to restore her smile, hoping he'd take the hint that they could talk later.

As they went through the second half of the dance, Anne found herself relaxing once again and grinning easily. By the time she bobbed to Mrs. Lynde's son, she was beaming once again, though if Caleb had been paying attention to Anne rather than looking around for Miss Stacy, he might have noticed that Anne was looking out of the corner of her eye at Gilbert, who was doing the same to see Anne.

They went to go sit out as the band took a break. Charlie followed to ask if Anne didn't want some lemonade.

"Oh… That's kind of you to ask, but I can get some myself," Anne replied, setting off in that direction.

"Anne!" Jane, Tillie, Diana, and Ruby dashed up. Gilbert politely backed off. "Did you really just refuse Charlie?" Tillie gasped.

Anne sighed and shook her head. "I refused a cup of lemonade that I am perfectly capable of procuring for myself."

"It's not about what you're capable of Anne; it's about what a boy will do for you! Honestly…" Jane shook her head and looked around quickly.

Ruby, also looking around, gave a short wave in the direction of Moody. The action didn't escape Diana's eagle eye. " _Moody,_ Ruby?"

Ruby gave a quick shrug. "He's very nice!"

The girls continued to chatter while Anne went to grab some lemonade.

"Anne…" a male voice said behind her. Anne was ready to tell Charlie off as she was clearly in the middle of getting a glass of lemonade and did not need any help with that, thank you very much, but she recognized the voice just as she opened her mouth. "Hello, Gilbert." She turned around and offered the cup to him. "Lemonade?"

"Well, if you're offering…" Gilbert took the glass as Anne grabbed another. As she took a sip, he joked, "I know better than to refuse when someone's offering to do  a nice thing for me."

Anne swallowed. "Yes, well, I'm hardly doing this to win your heart."

The words were out before she'd really thought about what they might imply, but her eyes went wide and Gilbert coughed as he choked just a little on his lemonade.

"I… um… Shall we?" Anne was relieved as the next dance—the Circassian Circle—was called.

Gilbert nodded, seeming as relieved as Anne to have something else to focus on.

Everyone was laughing at each other's slight missteps all through, as this was not a dance they had practiced. Diana caught Anne's eye and winked, and Anne looked away, spotting Josie, who was looking upset and just a little disheveled.

About half-way through the dance, it became clear something was happening.

"Josie… out by the shed… Billy… such wanton behavior… I heard… who really knows?"

Anne looked around frantically, finally spotting Josie as she was supposed to switch partners. She quickly strode over to the other girl, who was looking utterly miserable.

"Josie, are you alright?"

Josie's answer, despite the words, did not inspire confidence. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Anne took a breath. "The boys are saying things about you and Billy."

"What are they saying?" Josie looked around, desperate, as the dance ended.

Anne spotted Billy, jesting and jousting with his friends as though nothing could possibly be wrong.

"How dare you."

Gilbert had never quite heard this tone out of Anne. It was fury and hatred and outrage, rolled into one. Gone was any trace of the Anne he'd found cowering when Billy Andrews cornered her in the forest. This Anne was going to make him pay for hurting someone, and while Gilbert hoped it didn't come to it, he wasn't sure Anne wouldn't throw a punch.

"Come to beg for a kiss, too?" Not that Billy was actually offering, Gilbert knew, but the snide remark had him clenching his own fists at his sides. _If you ever hassle Anne again, you'll regret it._ Throwing a haymaker in the middle of the county fair was not the proper course of action, but in the moment, Gilbert wasn't sure it wasn't the right one.

"Beg—? That's not what happened and you know it! How dare you spread nasty rumors about my friend?!" Anne indicated Josie, and Gilbert felt his heart sink as the color drained from Josie's face. This was never going to end well, but now, it was assured to end publicly.

"You weren't there! You don't know what happened," Billy scoffed.

Anne wasn't backing down. "I have eyes. I can see that she is devastated; you shouldn't have touched her, Billy."

Billy looked around casually. "Well, I guess she regrets having loose morals."

Josie let out a disbelieving gasp and ran. Billy gave Anne a disdainful look and stalked off the other way, leaving Anne looking bewildered and upset.

This was not the way this night should have ended, but it was the way it was ending. Nobody could have predicted this, and so nobody could predict what was yet to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, because there's no Winnie, Madame Lyudmilla got cut, which is a shame because I love the pep talk she gives Anne after Anne comes back to her (as well as Amybeth's stellar heartbroken teen acting in that scene—she's an amazing actress all around, but that scene specifically just threw me back fifteen years). Also, more obviously, Winnie's "Do you spell it with or without an E" question isn't there and honestly, that is the moment that made me fall in love with Winnie because I, like Anne, have a just-slightly-less-common spelling variation as a name, and so people are constantly getting it wrong if they don't ask.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the two following have a fair amount of overlap from the show, because honestly, they're the bits I really wanted to keep. I tried to add depth where I could, and there are definite changes, but just be aware that these might not be the most exciting chapters.

Anne was furious. She'd thought that someone—Diana, Gilbert, Miss Stacy, even Ruby!—would have been on her side, but clearly, she was alone.

So, as she worked tirelessly to set and print her article, the sting of betrayal only spurred her on. There had been Jane's remarks about Josie's ill breeding. Diana had tried to smooth it over by trying to get at the fact that Josie hadn't consented. Miss Stacy had apologetically refused to get involved, stating that it was out of her hands, especially as Billy was no longer a pupil. That Billy could not cause further trouble of school had been of cold comfort to Anne.

But worst of all had been her talk with Gilbert. He'd run into her on the walk to school for the newspaper meeting. She'd started early to take her time and fume and stew. Anne had vented to him. It wasn't fair that, with only Billy and Josie's words for what had transpired, that a known bully like Billy was believed by so many, and not held accountable even by those who knew he was lying.

She'd had some hope when Gilbert had agreed, but then, he'd reminded Anne that Avonlea was a small town, and that the prevailing attitude wouldn't change so easily. Naturally, Anne had yelled at him that if that was all the help he was going to be, he was welcome to join them in mocking Josie, for all the good he was doing by allowing this to continue.

He'd given her the coldest stare she'd been on the receiving end of in a long time. "Do _not_ put words into my mouth, Anne. I am merely saying that you have a battle ahead of you if you want to see change. Don't make the mistake of thinking that means I don't want to see or help it happen." He'd walked ahead, leaving Anne speechless.

When they'd broken for lunch, she'd left a note on his desk bearing just four words: _I'm sorry. You're right._

It had been enough. After the newspaper meeting was over, he'd come up to apologize. "I shouldn't have walked away. I realize how much this frustrates you. I have to attend to chores, but do you… want to talk about it on the walk home? Maybe do some brainstorming on how to address it?"

Anne had shaken her head and lied, "Thank you, but not today; I'm staying behind to do a little more work."

Gilbert had looked like he wanted to say more, but had nodded and left.

Anne sighed. She was regretting not asking for some help, at least, but she'd had her vision, and she was going to deliver on it, come hell or high water.

* * *

Hell was indeed on its way, and high water might be, as well, if the weather took a turn.

"Account for yourself!" was not Marilla's usual morning greeting.

"I'm s-sorry?" Anne shook herself awake.

Marilla was fury personified. "Your article! Or perhaps 'manifesto' would be a better word."

"I told the truth," Anne replied. Surely that would be enough to help Marilla see sense?

It was not. "This particular truth did not need to be told in the newspaper!"

"In fact, that's exactly where the truth should be expressed." Anne wondered why Marilla was so upset.

"Your opinion is your opinion, not—" Marilla started, only for an increasingly befuddled and agitated Anne to interrupt.

"It's not my opinion! Isn't it true that if I choose to marry, my life could be traded to the highest bidder for some farmland and cows?!"

"That's not what you wrote!" Marilla pointed out.

Undeterred, Anne continued on her rant. "Don't I, as a woman, deserve to even have an opinion? Don't you? What about when Matthew didn't so much as consult with you when he made the deal with the bank that almost cost us Green Gables...?" Anne ran out of steam as Matthew appeared.

Unfortunately, Marilla had rather gathered some. "Don't you dare use our plight as fodder for your… your belligerence!"

"I am not being belligerent!" However Marilla might feel about Anne's editorial, there was no arguing that Anne had kept her temper pretty well in check for her.

"And what about poor Josie Pye?" Marilla wanted to know.

Anne narrowed her eyes. "I never mentioned her; the article is about _all_ women!"

A-ha. "If your article was about all women, then why was it only Josie who ran out of church crying?"

Anne blinked, stunned.

Marilla sighed. "I want you to spend today thinking about what you've done. What you've potentially cost Josie. The scandal was in the public eye before, sure enough, but you've made her into a symbol she does not wish to be. You'd do well to reflect on that." With that, Marilla swept out of Anne's room.

* * *

It hadn't occurred to Anne to apologize to Josie. She'd been so wrapped up in being misunderstood that the solution wasn't anywhere in sight, but when Diana pointed it out, it was quite obvious.

Anne was kicking herself mentally as she walked up to the Pyes' house, timid and pulled in on herself. Josie deserved Anne's apology, but she also deserved Billy's and—no, this was not the time to shift blame. As angry as Anne was at Billy (and as regretful as she was for not punching him as she'd wanted to), that wasn't going to help right now.

Anne hid behind an arbor as the door opened and the minister left. Anne certainly didn't need a talking-to by him right now.

She waved hopefully at Josie once Josie's parents had gone inside. Josie scowled and stalked inside.

Anne turned to go, not ten paces away when she heard Josie's footsteps rushing up behind her. Anne turned, ready to get her apology out when Josie's hand hit her cheek full force. Anne gasped as Josie fumed, and, her apology gone, the first thing out of her mouth was what she'd resolved not to say.

"But he shouldn't have touched you!"

"You shouldn't have written about it!" hissed Josie. "You've always been jealous of me. You couldn't rise to my level, so you brought me down to yours. Congratulations, Anne," she sneered, "now I'm trash, just like you."

Anne would be lying if she'd said she'd never even once envied Josie, but the accusation of wanting to ruin her was too much. As Josie stalked off back to her house, Anne turned to leave in tears. It was time to face the music. She picked her way along the path to the schoolhouse for the day's meeting, knowing that she was probably going to face more tongue-lashing.

She'd expected some backlash, of course. Gilbert hadn't been wrong when he'd said that things were slow to change, and Marilla hadn't been wrong when she'd said Anne hadn't been thinking of Josie. And perhaps Josie slapping her hadn't been right, but with the day's reflection, Anne wasn't about to blame Josie for reacting that way to yet another thing that she hadn't had any choice in.

"Anne?"

She didn't know why Gilbert was asking; she was the only redhead in Avonlea. Anne sighed and stopped for him to catch up. "Yes?"

"Anne… what were you _thinking_?!" Gilbert wasn't yelling, but it might have almost been easier if he was, because then she wouldn't hear the hurt and know what to inevitably expect.

"Gilbert, you're not going to tell me anything I haven't already heard today. I've been made to think long and hard about all the ways my actions have made things worse, and I expect I will continue to do so for a good long while yet. Could you please… just let me walk?" Anne's voice was weary.

Gilbert shook his head. "No. I want to know why you didn't just ask me—or better, Miss Stacy—for help. I offered, Anne! And I meant it!"

Anne didn't look at him. "I knew what I wanted to say. I just… I had to do this. I couldn't let anyone try and talk me out of it, or tell me that I should be nicer. Nice wouldn't have made a difference. Not for Josie."

Gilbert sighed impatiently. "I don’t disagree with any of what you wrote. I know that you want to change the world, Anne! But you can’t carry that on your shoulders alone; you have to let others in. Quite frankly, I’d like to be one of those people, but when you assume everyone is going to approach you with hostility, it makes that incredibly difficult! And it makes me wonder…" He didn't know what he wanted to say, so he just let it hang there. Anne would surely fill it in adequately enough on her own.

And fill it in, she did. She'd stopped in her tracks. Gilbert turned to look, his heart nearly breaking. Anne looked as though she'd been hit by his words. And he couldn't be sure, but one of her cheeks looked like it might be just a little redder than the other. "You're right," she quavered. "Of course. I'm sorry." She turned abruptly to head deeper into the woods—toward the destroyed story club house, Gilbert would have noted, if he'd been able to think about anything other than how miserable Anne looked and he felt.

"I'm sorry, too," Gilbert said quietly, channeling every ounce of regret he was feeling into those three words.

Right now, it wasn't enough. Anne slunk off into the woods, while Gilbert continued on to the schoolhouse, his stomach in knots.

* * *

Maybe it was for the best Anne hadn't come. Between the at least two dressings-down Anne had already received, Gilbert wasn't sure she should be attempting to stomach a third. He was currently listening to Moody to try to distill his argument and help him phrase it more constructively, but all his classmate wanted to do was rant.

Diana was in a similar position, fending off Tillie, and snapping at Charlie when he made a remark about Anne being too headstrong for anyone's good.

The arguing stopped when Miss Stacy folded a paper glider and tossed it down the center of the classroom. "What's done is done. We could retract Anne's article, but that would send a message that we condone what has occurred, and I don't think any of you want that, correct?" She looked around. Nobody uttered a word. "So, moving forward, what course of action _would_ you like to take?"

Diana raised her hand. "Anne needs to apologize to Josie."

Miss Stacy nodded. "I will instruct her to do so if she has not already."

Moody raised his hand. "Anne should apologize to us."

"For?" Gilbert couldn't help the sharp question. He didn't disagree, but it had to be for the right reasons.

Moody shrugged and gestured around. It was, somewhat surprisingly, Charlie who filled in. "For breaking the editorial rules, even if they were unspoken. She should have come to us."

Miss Stacy nodded. "I think that's reasonable." She looked between Gilbert and Diana. "Do either of you happen to know where she might be?"

Diana shook her head. "I have a few guesses. I can go look."

"Gilbert?" Miss Stacy gave him a look he couldn't quite decipher, but it was probably just that she knew they were coming from the same direction.

Gilbert also shook his head, crossing his arms. "No idea."

Miss Stacy sighed. "Very well. I think the best course of action is for me to speak with Anne and her parents. We'll have another meeting tomorrow."

* * *

Gilbert had thought the arguing was bad. Anne being fired from the paper was worse.

Not everyone thought so, but Gilbert had plans to change that.

It was, however, Diana whose temper flared first. When Moody boldly declared Anne's firing to be for the best, prim and proper Diana Barry stood, looking ready to square up with Moody. "What did you say?"

"If Anne were here, she'd just say 'Use your imaginations!' and then find some way to ruin what's left of the newspaper for the rest of us," Moody asserted.

"Hold on. Let's not forget where all this started. It started with Billy Andrews disrespecting Josie Pye."

"Anne should've left well enough alone," Tillie argued.

Gilbert turned to her. "Anne stood up for a person who suffered a cruelty. That person could've easily been you." He grabbed a copy of the paper and skimmed. " _Women matter on their own, not in relation to a man._ Whom here disagrees?" He looked around. Nobody was disagreeing. Diana even looked hopeful, though only slightly less ready to throttle Moody than she had moments ago.

" _We all deserve the right to bodily autonomy and to be treated with respect and dignity. To say 'stop' and be heard; instead of pushed, derided, and told that a man knows more about our basic rights and desires than we do._ What do you think, Moody? Do you know more about the contents of Ruby's mind than she does?"

Moody was clearly taken aback. "I… barely know one thing," he admitted sheepishly.

"I _certainly_ know more than that," Ruby declared proudly.

" _Women are not made whole by a man; they are made whole the moment they enter this world._ " Gilbert looked around. "You know she'd do the same for any one of you, even in spite of what you're saying about her. She'd do what was right. That's… who she is." He hadn't exactly been planning out what to say, but what had come out was the honest, unfettered, amazing truth about Anne, and saying it felt entirely correct.

He had only a moment to savor his victory before Anne burst in, carrying… planks?

"I know I'm not your favorite person right now, but—"

Diana, of course, was the first to speak up. "No, Anne, not at all. We're sorry!" She rushed back to hug her friend, joined swiftly by Tillie, who added, "We didn't understand!"

As the girls swarmed Anne, she shot a beaming look in Gilbert's direction. He smiled back.

Ruby turned to Moody, "You shouldn't have _ever_ have been blamed!" Moody graciously nodded.

"Well, I came to say I, uh…" Anne stepped forward holding the planks. "I have enough of these for everybody. I have a plan," she added when everyone's face registered complete confusion.

"Oh, good, because Miss Stacy's plan is terrible!" Ruby replied.

Miss Stacy tried to hold in a laugh as she held up her hands in a gesture of surrender.

Things were looking up after all.

* * *

As they painted the words on the boards, it felt like they were finally a team again.

Of course, Ruby and Tillie being themselves, they couldn't resist commenting when Jerry brought up more paint.

Soon enough, though, it was time for everyone to depart after making sure they all had the plan for tomorrow.

"Big day tomorrow," Gilbert said by way of good bye.

Anne smiled just a little disbelievingly. "The biggest."

Gilbert nodded and left, leaving Anne's friends to say their goodbyes.

"it's not the same without Josie," Ruby pointed out.

"I miss her too,"agreed Diana.

"Poor Josie. Can you imagine? You finally get to have your first real kiss and it's supposed to be so romantic, but you're so, so scared?"

"I wonder if it even counts," said Tillie.

"I think it only counts of both people kissing want it to happen and have feelings for each other," answered Anne.

As the girls said their final good byes and left, Anne realized she had to try again. She had to make it right.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has the most overlap with what actually happens in-show. (Thus why I'm posting it with a chapter on either side. I want to actually get to the new content!) Episode 7 was my absolute favorite episode of the season, though obviously, this will end a bit differently.

Anne milled around the barn aimlessly as she was supposed to be preparing. She'd thought yesterday had ended on such a good note, with their protest planned and ready to go, and then with her apology to Josie landing very well indeed, no matter what Josie pretended. And then, Jerry had told her about "his girl"… Diana. The protest might have made her nervy enough to make sleep difficult, but instead, all she'd been able to think about when she wasn't fitfully sleeping was how this could have been happening right under her nose.

Why wouldn't Diana have told her? She knew Anne had noticed the way Jerry looked at her! Surely she didn't believe Anne wouldn't be supportive—this was the most romantical thing she'd ever heard!

Which meant… that Diana _must_ be ashamed of it. Of sweet, lovable Jerry and his utter adoration.

No. Anne couldn't think so ill of her bosom friend without an explanation. She'd ask Diana after the protest. Surely this was all just a misunderstanding. Yes, that had to be it.

"Morning!" Diana walked easily into the barn. "I thought you could use some help!"

Anne didn't reply.

"Anne? What's wrong?" Diana sounded confused.

"Who are you here to see: me, or Jerry?" Anne's question came out with more of an edge than she'd thought it would. With Diana acting like nothing was amiss, Anne's feelings of betrayal were about to come pouring out. "Why didn't you tell me? I-is it because of what I wrote about Josie? You thought me untrustworthy?"

Both girls had already started to tear up, and Diana's voice wavered. "O-o-o-of course not! It started weeks before that!"

"Weeks?!" Anne was shocked.

Diana shook her head. "It doesn't mean anything," she assured Anne.

Unfortunately, it was the wrong assurance. "How can kissing someone repeatedly not mean anything?"

"I-I don't know." Diana tried again. "I thought the kisses meant something, but then they didn't, but then I didn't want them to stop even though they—"

"You're not making any sense!" Anne cried.

Diana was finally frustrated. "That's why I couldn't tell you."

Anne was now holding back tears. "Yesterday… Jerry came to talk to me about a girl… who was being cruel, and never in a million years did I think he was describing my truest friend! It's like I don't know who you are!"

"I'm still me!" Diana sobbed. She stepped forward to take Anne's hand, but Anne twisted away. "I promise you. I should've never gotten involved with him! It's ridiculous."

"And why is that?" Anne asked flatly, her anger flaring again.

"You _know_ why," Diana retorted just as harshly.

Anne nodded. "Yes, I do. Because Jerry told me that you make him feel common."

"That's hardly my fault!" protested Diana.

"Isn't it?" Anne cried.

"Our differences are glaring, wouldn't you say?" Diana wanted to know. "I was hoping to spare his feelings and simply let Paris cause a natural end."

Anne jerked as if slapped and turned away, covering her mouth. "Is that what you're doing with me?" Even as she said it, she knew it couldn't be true, but it had come flying out, as usual, and deep down, there was a tiny, dark, insidious bit of her that had always wondered, that had told her that her orphanage tormentors were right. And that bit was growing exponentially right now. "Biding time until you can step into your preordained life full of architecture and fine cheese?! With all the appropriate people!" She continued on as Diana gaspingly sobbed a "No!"

"Of course not! How could you say such a thing?" Diana followed as Anne started to walk away.

Anne stopped and whirled around. "I guess I've never been good enough for you, either," she sobbed.

Diana's heartbreak turned to rage. "Don't. You. _Dare_. I have _always_ stood by you from the first day we met. You're nullifying our friendship over this one small trespass!"

"You'd never survive stepping into society with an urchin like me!" Anne retorted.

"Oh, here we go! Again! Anne Shirley-Cuthbert and her tragical tale of woe! Nobody is more hurt than you, Anne. You win!" Diana spat.

Anne was just as quick to return the venom. "No, Diana. _You_ win. 'Cause the world always lets girls like you win."

" _If you were my friend, you would understand!_ " they both roared at the same time.

They both stood, shocked for a moment, until Diana hissed, "Well, clearly you're not."

"And you never were," Anne told her.

"Well, a true story. At last." Diana ripped her locket from her throat and cast it to the barn floor. She ran from the barn in tears, leaving Anne standing there sobbing. Gilbert's words about getting hostility if hostility was all she was going to offer echoed in her head as she dropped to her knees and picked up the locket.

How had it ever gotten this bad?

* * *

As they waited on the porch of the schoolhouse, Anne's stomach was in absolute knots. She'd only barely succeeded in apologizing to Josie, and her fight with Diana had been horrifying. What if this turned out poorly, too? What if nobody showed up? What if—

"They wouldn't… not come? After all this?" Anne gave voice to her worries. It wasn't helping.

"Have faith," Gilbert told her. At Anne's astonished face, he held up his hands in a gesture of appeasement. "Just a suggestion. Not… telling you what to do." He gave Anne an encouraging half-smile, and for the first time since that morning, Anne's own brilliant smile graced her face.

Anne cast another look around, her heart leaping when Miss Stacy's motorbike sounded and appeared in the distance. The back of Gilbert's hand tapped her arm, and she turned to see he was pointing out the arrival of Moody and Charlie, just as Tillie and Ruby showed up. Within a moment, the size of the group had swelled considerably, including one face Anne hadn't expected to see: Prissy Andrews.

"Jane said you were doing something absolutely daft that she completely and fundamentally disagreed with, so I had to come. May I join you?"

Anne still felt a large pang of regret for her part in the Prissy/Mr. Phillips scandal. She was amazed that this might be a result, but she certainly wasn't about to complain. "The more, the merrier!" she answered.

Anne looked around at the group gathered before her. "Our moment is near. Are you ready to fight for what's right?"

There was a chorus that could be interpreted as nothing but affirmative.

"Got yours?" Anne waved her kerchief and saw Marilla hand Prissy a spare. Quickly, she addressed the older girl. "Oh, and you can… use Diana's board. She… won't be joining." She took a breath. "Alright. Let's make some no-o-oise!" she yelled, energy surging through her as the group let out a cheer. Everything was going to plan.

* * *

They'd gathered quite the following as they'd paraded to the town hall. Most people were curious about what was going on, and while a few turned up their noses and most just came along for the show, some of the people who stayed had voiced their agreement with either Anne's article or (admittedly more commonly) that the paper shouldn't be stopped just because a few feathers had been ruffled.

The protesters and onlookers alike cheerfully streamed into the Town Hall, ignoring a crotchety "What the blazes is going on!" and Mrs. Lynde's slightly more reasonable "Excuse me, there is a meeting in session?"

_And why do you think we're here right now?_ Anne wanted to chirp back, but they had a plan, and she was going to stick to it.

The school board continued their confused and angry remarks as the protesters mounted the stage. Gilbert stayed at the bottom, playing the part of both honor guard and, hopefully, a surprisingly shocking rebel.

Anne popped behind the curtain to make sure things were proceeding as they should, then popped back out. "Good morning," she announced. "What you are about to witness is an _organized action_."

"This is an outrage, that's what this is!" one of the board members interrupted. "How dare you—"

Anne was simultaneously more and less shocked than she'd expected when it was Marilla who interrupted the man. "They have a right to their say!"

"We are not here to provoke!" Anne continued. She spied Josie in the crowd, weaving toward the stage with a worried but ultimately hopeful look on her face. Anne grinned widely and motioned her up, thankful for the bit of extra time that would give everyone behind the curtain to get fully ready. When Josie grabbed her hand, Anne clarified, "We are here… to be heard." She and Josie started opening the curtains as Anne finished her speech. "Even though… you tried to silence our voices, well—" the gagged students stepped forward with their boards "—we have a message for you."

_Freedom of speech is a human right_

They'd needed something short enough to fit on the boards, but pointed enough to get the message across. Someone had suggested _We will not be silenced_ , but it was quickly pointed out that that ran a bit skew to the paper element.

The crowd was murmuring in shock, and Anne couldn't have been happier with the way this had already turned out.

The man whom Marilla had interrupted told the minister to get up on the stage, and the minister rose to do so. "Now, come along now. That's quite, quite enough," he said tiredly, as though it was going to be that easy. He tried to take the boards from each of the protesters he passed, but they simply held onto them and locked eyes with him, and Anne could see it was making the minister incredibly uncomfortable.

The man who had directed him up there shook his fist and snarled "Get down from that—"

There was a flash and a click, and the room turned to Miss Stacy, who was assisting a photographer with a proud cat-that-got-the-canary smirk twisting one corner of her mouth up, and fully reaching her eyes. They'd all brought this together. Anne wanted to cry, but they weren't done yet.

Gilbert walked up onto the stage and presented the sheet of rules. "Thanks for the suggestions," he said mildly, and tore them in half, letting them fall and not backing down.

* * *

_"May I have the rules they set forth?" Gilbert had asked._

_"Why?" Miss Stacy had wanted to know._

_Gilbert had picked up a piece of paper and tore it in half. "A bit more dramatic flair couldn't hurt. If Anne did it, it would just be another Anne thing." Anne could only give an agreeing, yeah-so-what-else-is-new? nod. "If **I** do it, it's a sign of solidarity. A sign that we're not just going to be passive; we're going to be active, as well."_

_Miss Stacy had grinned. "Gilbert, I think that's an excellent idea."_

* * *

Anne's imagination had, for once, not quite done this moment justice. It had done none of it justice, really, but it was that extra moment of defiance that really sealed it.

The minister turned to the audience. "Miss Stacy, control your children!" he ordered.

"They are _not_ children. And they are _not_ out of control," she said calmly, just loud enough to be heard.

Someone started applauding. And then another. The whole crowd was soon clapping and cheering. Anne had never felt more excited or powerful or just plain happy in her life.

* * *

Anne had needed some fresh air. She was perfectly happy around people, of course, but she just wanted to be alone with her thoughts and savor her success.

The door behind her opened, and Anne prepared to bid whoever was leaving good night.

"Well, you sure pulled that off," Gilbert told her, sitting down beside her and looking as content as Anne felt.

" _We_ did," she corrected. It had been her plan, but she couldn't have done it without the group. She was more grateful than she could say that Gilbert had brought them around, but she had to know, "What in the world did you say to our class to make them change their minds about me?"

"I... reminded them that you always have a way of making things right," he summarized. _More like "I gushed over your article and then eventually you as a person", but close enough._

Anne shrugged. "Historical precedent would suggest otherwise." She said it with a grin, and Gilbert chuckled. She couldn't beat herself up tonight if she wanted to. "Speaking of which," she teased, "shouldn't we be arguing about something right now?"

"Probably," Gilbert agreed happily. Anne made a laughing noise of concurrence. "You wanna start?" he volleyed back playfully.

Anne thought for a moment, considering it just seriously enough. "I can't think of anything," she confessed, her astonishment and her joy at this realization both clear in her voice.

"Me neither," Gilbert told her.

"Huh."

They both laughed quietly, then went silent for a moment.

"After all these years… who knew we'd make such a good… T-E-A-M?" Gilbert spelled out.

Anne laughed softly in slightly bashful agreement, just looking at him, not realizing they'd both gone silent for a moment or two, and finding it surprisingly comfortable when she did.

His shoulder dropped just a bit, and Anne realized that Gilbert had filled out, even between the time he'd return to Avonlea and now. His face, too, was far less boyish than when they'd met, and his _chin_ … she hadn't really thought about it before, but she was making up for lost time now. She was noticing all the things she shouldn't, like the fact that except in winter, he always kept his sleeves rolled up past his forearms—when had she started to appreciate _forearms_ , honestly?!—and that he almost always had the top button of his shirt undone unless propriety was absolutely necessary, along with the entirety of his vest on warm days. She knew when she'd finally really noticed his eyes and the way his smile touched them especially when he was looking at her, but she didn't know when she'd started wondering what his hair actually felt like to the touch. And while it had been months since he'd held her hand—dancing aside; that wasn't holding hands so much as necessary touching—she remembered the feeling of it, and she wanted very, _very_ much to do so again.

And the way he was looking at her, gazing into her eyes and oh-so-slowly starting to lean in, told Anne that she wasn't the only one who'd gone starry eyed. She didn't know what to say or do. Surely he knew she couldn't have had any romantic experience like this before! And at the fair, they'd been saying that it was ridiculous to think they might be involved! It had to be the success of the day and the lovely moonlit night and the warm feeling of really and truly getting along without any obstacle or major event that was causing this, because there was absolutely no way that she really wanted…

Well, even if _she_ did, there was absolutely no way _he_ truly wanted…

_It can't be._

Realizing she too had been leaning in, Anne stopped. "What…" It came out so faintly she wasn't sure Gilbert would hear, but of course, he did, straightening his back as he snapped out of his reverie while Anne licked her lips and tried to get more words out, only to find that they were gone, but that dull ache of something missing was back.

"Oh, um… I, uh… Before Billy, well, you know… Before you went over to Josie, I wanted to ask you if I could walk home with you, like…" Gilbert sighed, as though confessing something far greater than what came out. "Like I should have after dance practice. I don't know what came over me."

"Oh…" Anne felt just a bit disappointed, but then, remembering that Charlie had clearly intended a more romantic walk, she shook her head. "Oh! O-of course. I'd like that. But it's too late tonight, and Matthew and Marilla will want to get us all home soon—I'm sure you'll be welcome to ride with us to Green Gables!"

Gilbert looked pained for just a split second, but nodded. After another moment, he offered hopefully, "Well, maybe I'll see you on the walk too and from school, then? Unless you're walking with Diana, that is."

Anne pulled her knees to her chest. "I don't think that will be a problem. You must have noticed that Diana wasn't here. We… had a fight, and I…" Tears welled in her eyes. "I don't think we're friends anymore."

"What?" Gilbert was shocked. All thoughts of walking Anne home fled from his mind. "What happened?"

Anne sighed. "She… Well, you know Jerry, our farmhand?" She waited for Gilbert's nod. "She and Jerry… they were… not courting, exactly, but he was—he would have liked to. And he thought she wanted to. And then they—they kissed several times, Jerry said, but… apparently it didn't mean the same to Diana as it did to him, and that was when he asked me for advice, and that was when I learned about this…" She sighed. "I confronted Diana about it this morning, and we argued. I said that maybe she viewed me the same way she viewed Jerry—ultimately lower class and disposable—and she said I was making it all about me…" Anne took a shuddering breath. "She was right. I did. I'm still angry that she broke Jerry's heart unnecessarily, but I was just afraid of… of what I've always been afraid of. That really, nobody wants me. Not as a friend, not as a daughter…" Anne buried her face in her hands. The next words came out through tears. "When I remembered our argument the other day, what you said to me—that if I was just going to assume people were always going to approach me with hostility, then of course they would—it was too late."

Gilbert frowned. He wasn't sure what to say. Anne always had words for situations like these. He tried, but right now, nothing was coming. Nothing that would ease Anne's heartbreak, anyway. "I'm… I'm sorry to hear that. I know that that isn't enough—that it won't fix anything—but I'm glad you've been thinking about it. It means, if I understand you correctly, that you want to mend things with Diana?" It took a moment, but Anne nodded. "Then you have nothing to lose by trying."

"I suppose not." Anne wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "I'd like to walk with you tomorrow, at least up until I'd meet Diana. Hopefully I can talk with her then, or after school, if that doesn't work. But I do want to walk with you. That… would be nice." She gave him a wavering smile, feeling it settle into a confident one when he gave her that smile he seemed to reserve for her in return.

Her heart leapt into her throat when, at last, he voiced his agreement. "Well, then, I look forward to seeing you tomorrow morning. But for now—" Gilbert pushed off his knees to stand before courteously offering a hand to Anne to pull her to her feet. "—I think we'd best go in for the night."

Gilbert couldn't see the smile on Anne's face as she followed him in, nor could he see hers, but if they had been able to, they would have noticed it was the exact same one, tender and sweet and hopeful for what the new day would bring.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, you're getting three chapters in a day! Mostly because, as stated in the notes to the other two chapters, I want to get back to major plot points that happen in this story that went differently in S3.

Anne had been nervous when the morning started. She'd tried to tell herself it was all about talking with Diana. Most of it was, but there was a small part of her that was wondering if walking with Gilbert was a good idea. There was something more than friendship there—she couldn't deny that after the previous night—but they'd just really started getting along. And what would the other girls say? What would the gossipy hens of Avonlea say?

And what did she feel for him, anyway? Beyond "more than friendly", she didn't know. And she certainly didn't know what exactly he felt for her.

Maybe she was imagining it. He could just be happy they were getting along. She certainly was.

"Morning, Anne." Gilbert's voice sounded behind her.

Anne nearly jumped. "H-hi. Good morning!" she chirped, hoping she didn't sound like she'd just been pondering romance.

Gilbert gave her a half-smile. "Tired? I didn't really sleep well, either. Yesterday was…"

"Yeah, it was." Anne nodded. "This might sound strange, but I… I hope that Miss Stacy perhaps takes it a little easier than usual today."

"Who are you, and what have you done with Anne Shirley-Cuthbert?" Gilbert murmured through a grin. "I don't actually disagree, for the record."

"Goodness, two days in a row we're not arguing? This must be a record," joked Anne. She was feeling much more comfortable.

So comfortable, in fact, that she didn't realize that they were approaching the junction where Diana and Anne would usually meet. Not, at least, until she saw Diana.

Anne stopped, Gilbert only a few paces behind her.

"You're early," Anne gasped.

" _You're_ early!" Diana shot back, registering Gilbert's presence only after she'd spoken. "And I see I've been replaced. Well done, Anne. The one way you could break my heart further, and you've managed it in a day." Diana stormed down the path toward the school.

"Diana!" Anne took a few hurried steps before looking over her shoulder. Gilbert waved her on, and she ran, calling as she went. "Diana! It's not—ugh! I'm sorry I'm sorry I accused you of… I was wrong!"

"That doesn't fix things!" Diana yelled back.

Anne's tone was a blend of desperation and frustration."I know that! But how can I make things better if I don't apologize?"

"Just leave me _alone_ , Anne!" was Diana's response.

Gilbert could still hear Anne crying after Diana, but all of a sudden, she stopped. Gilbert quickened his pace as he exited the trees and traversed the rest of the path to thee schoolhouse, nearly running into Anne's back.

She and Diana were stopped short, and when Gilbert realized what they were looking at, he had to catch his breath.

The schoolhouse was ashes. The stove and chimney still stood, but that was it.

It was only seconds before Miss Stacy showed up, the rest of the class wandering up in ones and twos shortly after. Everyone stopped to stare in horror at the burned out pit.

"Bell," Miss Stacy pointed out. "Stove… No printing press metal."

"A printing press doesn't just get up and walk away." Nobody dared point out that Gilbert was very much saying the obvious. Between the shock and the anger, that was not going to go anywhere good.

Most of the girls were crying as they whispered amongst themselves.

"The fire in the stove wasn't lit," Charlie pointed out.

"No lightning," Moody reasoned.

"What could've—"

Anne interrupted Charlie's obvious question, her voice thick with emotion. "Ask whoever took the printing press, because it's not here."

"What do you mean, not here?" Tillie asked. "Taken?"

"Somebody did this? On purpose?" Diana gasped.

"I believe it," Josie said flatly, looking at Anne.

"Who would…?" Ruby quavered.

"People who didn't like us challenging them," Gilbert answered quickly.

Moody turned to Miss Stacy, who was still picking through the smoldering remains. "They can't get away with this. We have to do something!"

Tillie glared around. "We _did_ do something, and this was the result!"

"And now we have nothing," sobbed Anne. "It's all my fault!"

"This is _not_ Anne's fault!" Miss Stacy snapped from other side of the wreckage before anyone could comment either way. "Nor is it any of yours. This is the fault of small minds! We don't know exactly what happened, and we may never, but we cannot let it knock us down or silence us!" It was clear as day that their beloved teacher was fighting her own tears. "Yes, this is a vile, spineless act, but it's proof positive that we made an impact. Kudos to you! Now is the time to focus on your futures and the Queen's entrance exams, and not on this act of… cowardice!" Miss Stacy spat the last word.

She was right. But being actively engaged in seeking justice was exactly the kind of person Anne wanted to be. And it was clear that the school board had played some kind of role in this. She wasn't done giving them a piece of her mind yet. She turned and ran.

* * *

Anne stormed into the Blythe-LaCroix house. " _Mrs. Lynde!_ " she yelled, heedless of whether or not Dellie was sleeping.

"Anne?" Anne stopped as the voice called to her, finding Mrs. Lynde dusting. "Anne?" she asked again, clearly confused as to why Anne was here yelling at her and not at school.

In a low, accusing voice, Anne asked, "How could you stand by and let it happen?" When Mrs. Lynde started to ask, "What are y—" Anne continued in a louder voice, "You _cannot_ hold us down! Burn our school? We will rise. We will take your fear and turn it into fuel." She drew breath, but Mrs. Lynde's continued befuddlement brought her up short.

"Burn your school?" she gasped, echoed by Marilla.

"Our school is ashes, as is everything in it," Anne hissed, "aside from what was metal! The bell is still there, and the stove… Curiously, the printing press is _not_."

Rachel gasped and crumbled into tears, and it was only then that Anne realized that perhaps not the entire school board had been in on it. She guided Mrs. Lynde to the couch and sat her down while Marilla sat in a chair with Delphine, and told the story of how they'd found the school this morning. Marilla was holding back tears, but Mrs. Lynde continued to weep, and Anne felt sorry for her.

"Mrs. Lynde, I apologize most deeply for assuming you would be involved in such a heinous act. I let my temper get the best of me and I am most contrite," she told the older woman with great sincerity.

Rachel shook her head. "No, Anne, it is I who should be sorry. Those old codgers rumbled and groaned and… and wouldn't listen to me, so I left. I didn't think they were men of such… action. I should have done something more to stop them. This could be nobody else." She sighed angrily and shook her head. "The way they spoke of women—they accused me of being hysterical when I was speaking with the same tone they were!—during your manifesto debacle was eye-opening to say the least."

"Did you really think it was a debacle?" This was no time to argue semantics, Anne chided herself, but the words were out, and when Mrs. Lynde held her hand and told her in all sincerity, "Not anymore", she could be nothing but proud.

Rachel continued, "I'm glad you forced this to the surface. People have revealed themselves, and things will not be the same. I assure you, I'm a very good ally to have. Leave this with me."

Anne smiled. She'd never been a fan of Rachel's gossip, but to have her on your side… well, the idea certainly had merit.

* * *

Anne wandered her way back down the forest path, intending to head straight to the Barry house. She saw a dandelion and bit her lip. To pluck it might be too hopeful. She had certainly made a mess of things. Still…

"Anne?"

Anne quickly rose, having only just begun to crouch. "Diana!" She paused for the barest moment. "I'm so sorry! You were right; I was taking out my past on you. It wasn't fair of me to say such terrible things to you, or to make it about me, and I am so, so sorry. I know it may be some time before you can forgive me, and I will give you all the time you nee—" Anne's breath was knocked from her as Diana pelted up and grabbed her in a tight hug.

"I couldn't stay mad at you for long." Diana squeezed Anne and backed away to look at her. "And anyway… you may be upset to hear, but Gilbert mentioned your _tête-à-tête_ from the other night and said you did truly intend to apologize today without any expectation of receiving the same, and while I know you're not lying about being sorry, he wouldn't lie about what you said, either."

Anne sighed. "Well, I suppose he broke implied confidence for a very worthy cause, so I'll forgive him this once. And you, if… if you feel there's anything that needs forgiving. Or not, if there isn't."

"I should have told you, Anne. I'm sorry I didn't. And of course, I forgive you, too. I can understand why it would affect you so." Diana wiped the back of her hand across her eyes.

Anne did so, as well, before crouching to pluck the dandelion, leaving enough stem for Diana to grasp as well. They linked pinkies. " _I solemnly swear to be faithful to my bosom friend—_ "

" _—Diana—_ "

" _—Anne—_ "

" _—for as long as the sun and moon shall endure._ "

The girls blew the dandelion, then tossed it aside and hugged each other tightly.

At least one more thing was right in the world.

* * *

Anne thought she'd known terror in her life. The Queen's entrance examination, however, was quickly eclipsing any other moment she could think of. This was going to determine her future. Her friends' futures. What if… what if it all went wrong?

_Breathe,_ she reminded herself. 

"Gilbert, I think my heart's about to explode! I'm dying!" Moody screamed.

"Moody, if you stop screaming and channel that energy into breathing in that paper bag, I think you'll be fine," Gilbert instructed testily, looking over an old list of vocabulary words and grammatical structures.

Moody did as he was bid, and Anne and a few others laughed… until one of the Pauls seized the bag and proceeded to vomit loudly into it.

"Oh, that is _disgusting_! Go out back!" Josie yelled.

Ruby let out a squeaky yell, and then, "Diana!"

Anne launched herself off the steps and ran up to hug her friend. "You're really here!" she laughed.

Diana smiled shakily. "I am. Aunt Jo convinced me and is covering for me. Now, what do I need to know?"

"What _don't_ you need to know?!" Moody wailed.

Jane rolled her eyes and started to quietly list off topics until Charlie turned a very interesting shade of pale and Tillie gasped, "It's the exam proctor!"

The students all fell silent and parted as he walked up the path, then slowly filed in after him as if going to their collective doom.

Anne sat down across from Tillie and opened her bag to look for her pen, but it wasn't there. Of course! She'd lent it to Gilbert yesterday and hadn't reclaimed it! And the sneaky so-and-so had just _kept_ it? Well, she'd give him a piece of her mind…

As if by magic, her pen appeared before her eyes. "Sorry; I didn't mean to take it with me," Gilbert apologized.

Anne took the pen from Gilbert's hand. "I-it's no trouble. Thanks. But how will you—"

"It'll be fine. Someone's bound to have an extra." Gilbert smiled and went back to sit down.

Anne's lips involuntarily curved into a smile remembering the previous day.

* * *

_"It's so infuriating!" Anne groused. "Poor Miss Stacy! Poor all of us! Now we're all crammed in here, cramming, because of their heinous actions!" She and Gilbert were perched atop a trunk, but at least they weren't slouched in a doorway, as one of the Pauls was._

_"I wonder if Mrs. Lynde will actually hold them accountable," Gilbert speculated._

_"Well, if anybody can…" Anne brightened a bit. "I have to say, it was exhilarating seeing the change in Mrs. Lynde."_

_"I bet," Gilbert chuckled quietly, before asking, "Can I borrow your pen?" Anne had handed it over almost without thinking. (Perhaps that was why she hadn't thought to retrieve it; he'd caught her mid-rant.)_

_"We took a stand and accomplished something, despite the repercussions." Anne couldn't help preening just a bit._

_Gilbert's reply of "Maybe **because** of them," made her think just a bit as he continued, "The school's burned down, it's awful—"_

_"Ugh! Don't even get me started!" Miss Stacy grumbled as she wove through the room, pouring lemonade for the students._

_"—but it's strange. It makes me feel like the world is movable." The hope in his statement after the shattering events throughout the past few months was almost too much._

_It certainly firmed Anne's resolve. "No matter where life takes me, I now know I must be a relentless thorn in the side of those who refuse to amend the status quo."_

_"Of course you must," Gilbert replied with an encouraging smile. "And I know what I must not be: A country doctor, limited to delivering death sentences. There's so much that we don't yet know. I believe we can fix people, save them. We just haven't figured out how. I would give anything to be there when we do."_

_"Have you figured out… are you going to the Sorbonne?" Anne asked, hoping that the question wasn't too thorny._

_Gilbert shook his head, but he was still smiling, if a little dejectedly. "May as well ask if I can fly."_ _As Anne chuckled, though, he added, "I've been corresponding with Miss Stacy's friend at the University of Toronto, and it doesn't seem like a bad option, at least for the immediate future. But that' s only if I can get the marks to get admittance and a scholarship."_

* * *

He'd get there, Anne knew. There was no other option. It seemed a long way off, but really, it was just around the corner.

The proctor cleared his throat, and Anne's heart sped up. This was really happening! All she could do now was her best.

* * *

After the nerves of the exam, the students—well, students no longer, for the time being—had made a run for it to the ruins.

"We did it!" Anne cried as they tossed their hats into the air. "Graduation!"

"I brought the 'shine!" someone else called.

Diana held up her hand and grabbed the bottle. "Me first!" she exclaimed as the others gasped in amazement. She almost didn't choke it down, but managed to make it work, and handed it off to the next taker.

It took a few minutes for it to get to Anne, who took a swig and winced as the moonshine barely went down before holding out the jug to whoever would take it next. She turned to smile at whoever was taking it off her hands, faltering only momentarily when it was Gilbert whose hand brushed across hers and who held her gaze as he took a healthy swallow, only just barely wrinkling his nose in disgust. Anne wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and giggled. "And how does this compare to babash?" she asked in a low voice, not sure whether her other classmates knew of Gilbert's previous experience.

"This tastes much worse, but I didn't immediately throw up, so I think that's a good sign." Gilbert tilted his head just a bit, trying to decide, and made a face that said he'd be tasting it for hours.

Anne laughed. "I think I'll be avoiding that the rest of the night all the same."

Gilbert nodded. "Probably a good idea."

Another one of those interminable silences started, and just as Anne was about to speak again, Charlie made a call for a game of seaweed to begin. Gilbert gave Anne a speculative but challenging look. "And thus, the competition continues."

Anne smirked and, without another word, sidled off to join, Gilbert not far behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the seaweed game as "sharks and minnows" (though played on dry land), and I consider it different to freeze tag. In freeze tag, players are unfrozen when tagged by someone who isn't "it", rather than this game, where they try to tag untagged players while keeping one foot rooted/being unable to move from the spot they were tagged. Living surrounded by water as they do, I figured the game might have a nautical theme.


	8. Chapter 8

The hour grew late, but the excitement had not died down one bit. A bonfire had been made, a few songs had been sung, and it had seemed as though they'd had enough of a lull for the moment. Now, they needed a new game.

"Capture the flag! It'll be boys versus girls. The boys defend the flag, and, in our final triumph, the girls will win!" Jane exclaimed.

Most of the class cheered, though some of the boys laughed. Anne stared at them. "Think we can't do it?" She smirked. "Or are you just afraid we will?"

Moody stepped forward to playfully square up with Anne. "You're on."

There was another cheer, and the teams split up after they agreed on the boundaries.

Anne stopped when they were finally far enough back that even at the half-way boundary, the boys wouldn't be able to hear them.

"Anne should be the one to get the flag!" Ruby exclaimed. "She's the natural choice." The other girls nodded and murmured agreement.

Anne shook her head. "They'll expect that." She looked around at the girls. "Josie will lead the charge. I'll be the decoy. Diana, you'll trail behind me and get the flag." Diana's eyes gleamed with mischief.

Anne laid out a few more details, then bellowed, "Ready? _CHARGE!_ "

The girls fanned out, laughing and yelling excitedly. Anne gave them a ten-second head start, then took off around the left edge of their playing field, herself, hoping Diana gave her enough of a head start.

Anne wove among the trees. She heard Charlie yell "Anne's in the trees!" and retreated deeper in to wait for a minute and catch her breath. Nobody seemed to be coming in after her. She cautiously picked her way forward and toward the middle of the makeshift arena, pausing briefly when she heard Tillie let out a battle cry. Anne had to laugh quietly as she started forward again, wondering what on earth was going on and wishing she could be there to see it.

It had been a few minutes, she thought. Surely, Diana was close to securing the girls' victory! Anne heard a few fast but heavy footfalls—too heavy to be Diana, anyway—and a stick crack behind her and whirled out of Gilbert's reach just in time. She stayed on her toes, ready to run, though she knew she'd be outpaced too quickly.

Then again, Gilbert was staying where he was, hands braced on his knees, watching her and ready to move, but breathing hard already. He must have run from across the field. "I'm a little disappointed, Anne," he told her between gulps of air. "I didn't think you'd actually go with the obvious plan." On "plan", he started forward. Anne dashed around a waist-high rock, giving her enough space to move again while resting just a little.

"I'm surprised you're not calling anyone over," she retorted.

"Tillie and Josie tried to stage a prison break back to your side so they could mount another charge; we needed to keep more people back to stop them," admitted Gilbert.

Anne laughed. "Good on them."

Gilbert looked at her curiously and began to advance just a bit. "You didn't plan this out, did you?"

Anne shook her head, her hair going in all directions. "Some of it. But Josie and Tillie had some tricks up their sleeve, I guess." She started creeping backward. Gilbert was on the same side of the rock as she was now. Anne turned to run, giving a short gasp as she stumbled. She managed to stay on her feet, getting a few more paces before an arm wound around her waist, and Gilbert's voice, a bit husky from the reveling, declared a very satisfied "Got you," in her ear.

Anne turned to face him, her heart ready to hammer straight out of her chest. They were practically nose-to-nose, and it was incredibly unsettling. She cleared her throat. "Did... um, did you notice how I never actually said _I_ was the secret weapon?" she whispered.

Gilbert gave her another quizzical look, and then, a second later, Diana's voice could be heard crying victory. Gilbert's arm dropped from Anne's waist as he let out a surprised laugh. "Well done, Anne. My hat's off to you."

Anne took a small step back and, feeling daring, teased, "You haven't been wearing one since this afternoon."

"Ah, well..." Gilbert took Anne's hand and bowed over it. Before rising, he gave her a look Anne could describe no other way than utterly roguish. "Is this an acceptable substitute?"

Anne nodded and swallowed hard. "Yes," she replied faintly. She pulled her hand from Gilbert's as though scorched, trying very hard not to notice that he waited until the last possible moment to let go. She spun on her heel and ran back to find Diana, who had been hoisted onto the shoulders of Moody and one of the Pauls as everyone cheered her victory. Anne smiled up at her, receiving a triumphant grin in return. A bit of wickedness flickered into it when Gilbert ambled up from the same direction Anne had, and Diana made a note to ask about it later.

* * *

Anne was looking for her hat when Tillie, Ruby, and Jane barreled up to her.

"Anne! Anne! You're not leaving, are you Anne?"

Anne yawned. "I was thinking about it..."

Jane grabbed her arm and pleaded, "You must do that ritual with us first! After that hard-won victory, how can we not?!"

Smiling as she found her hat, Anne picked it up and brushed it off before agreeing, "Very well. Let's really give them something to worry about."

As the girls all recited the chant together, Anne gazed around. Things really wouldn't be the same after this. This was, in effect, their last night as schoolchildren. Of course, the results wouldn't be in for a fortnight, but they had studied hard for a reason. They were all going to be accepted, even Diana; Anne was sure of that. Still, it didn't quite feel real until the children started saying good bye and good night to each other. A couple of the girls were crying, and some of the boys were hiding sniffles of their own, trying to chalk it up to the moonshine.

"Anne..."

Anne jumped. She hadn't heard Gilbert walk up behind her. She tucked her hair behind her ear. "Yes?"

Gilbert looked around almost nervous. Anne had hardly ever seen him like this. "As we're... As we're going the same way, might I—perhaps—walk you home?"

"Of course!" Anne wasn't sure why he'd be nervous about asking her this—they'd walked together so many times—but he seemed to need encouragement, and Anne supposed it couldn't hurt. Quickly, she added, "I'd... like that."

Gilbert looked only slightly less nervous, but it was an improvement nonetheless. "Let me just grab my things."

Anne nodded, following him slowly so that he was ready to go and lighting a lantern by the time she reached him.

They set off, walking in companionable silence for a ways before Anne broke it. "That test sure was something... My brain feels like pummeled clay."

Gilbert chuckled. "I was going to suggest a wrung out towel. I'm sure the moonshine didn't help."

Anne shook her head. "I think some of our classmates are going to be in for a rough morning tomorrow." She opened the bottle she'd brought for water and stopped to drink deeply. "That's better." She offered it to Gilbert, who accepted and handed Anne the lantern while he downed the remaining contents of the bottle.

"Are you... worried about your results at all?" Gilbert asked as they swapped the bottle and the lantern again.

Anne shook her head. "I hope Diana gets in. I just wish her parents would see sense. And anyway, we're so young—why would her parents send her off to find a husband now?"

It was Gilbert's turn to shake his head. "I can't say I know much about Diana's life other than what you’ve told me, but I do know... Before she passed away, Mary..." He coughed and tried again. "She told me to marry for love. Only for love."

"She's right," Anne said quickly. "I mean, maybe there are other things to look at, but if you don't love who you're marrying; if you just do what's expected of you... you run the risk of losing yourself. You resign yourself to unhappiness."

Gilbert nodded, lifting the hand not holding the lantern to rub the back of his neck. He hadn't meant to start such a fraught conversation.

"Anyway," Anne continued after a moment of silence, "I look forward to what little extra downtime this grants me, I'll admit. I'll be able to spend time with Diana, and with Marilla and Matthew... I can come over and see Dellie, right?"

"I don't see why not," Gilbert answered, visibly buoyed by the question. A bit of mischief crept into his grin as he changed the subject. "So, who do you think beat whom?"

Anne fixed him with a stare of defiance, but it softened quickly. "I wouldn't be surprised if you outdid me. I don't think anyone would best either of us, though I suppose Jane and the Pauls might come close."

"Anne, give yourself credit. I am good at studying because I need to be for the career I've chosen, but when it comes to what we were tested on today, well, I won't be surprised when it's your name sitting at the top of the rankings."

Anne gave him a half-smile. "I fear our competition may yet last until we've graduated Queen's."

"About that... Queen's, I mean..." Gilbert paused. "If my marks are as good as I think they'll be, I intend to apply directly to the University of Toronto, to see if I can study under Miss Stacy's friend."

Anne felt as if all the air had been sucked from her lungs. "O-of course; that's wonderful!" She meant it, truly and honestly, but there was an ache starting in her heart. Of course the other girls would be at Queen's, but two of the people she'd been looking forward to being there with most weren't going to be there, it seemed.

"I'd like to write you, if that's agreeable," offered Gilbert. It wasn't an afterthought. In fact, it seemed as though he'd wanted to say it, but had needed to work up to it for some reason.

"Only if you learn to spell properly." The taunt slipped out before Anne could stop herself.

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "I misspell _one_ word in one letter and my good name is forever tarnished; is that how this is going to be?" Despite his words, a smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Just you wait, Miss Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, I _will_ catch you out."

"Is that so?" Anne popped her hands on her hips, mock-serious. "Well, _Mister_ Gilbert Blythe, you are going to have your work cut out for you."

"And if I say you can't use that dictionary I gave you?" Gilbert asked.

Before she could think again, Anne fired back, "You won't be able to check!"

"No, I suppose I won't." Gilbert went quiet. "It’s just not going to be the same."

"No," Anne agreed morosely. "It won’t." She sighed.

Gilbert let out a sigh of his own. "This is harder than I’d thought."

Anne didn’t know what to say to that, but her pace had slowed to a near-crawl. She looked up at the moon. Happy or sad, at least it was peaceful. She pushed her hair back again—out of braids, it had fallen forward—and felt a tug on her sleeve at her elbow. Gilbert had stopped; Anne could hear him set down the lantern.

She turned to face him, meeting a surprisingly intense gaze.

In the dim light from below, she could see that he was troubled—worrying about something. But at the corners of his mouth and in his eyes, a hopeful smile was blossoming.

"Gil…?" Anne couldn’t quite complete his name, especially once he stepped forward, his hands coming to rest at Anne’s elbows.

"Anne..." He whispered quietly. He was close—far closer than was proper, and though she was used to it by now, Anne’s heart was crashing in her chest just the same. Gilbert was looking at her the same way he had that night on Miss Stacy’s porch. That same way he’d looked at her as their dance had ended. The heat in her flushing cheeks was eclipsed by a warmth in her chest. Anne realized she was thoroughly enjoying the way she was feeling, and that made no sense at all, unless...

Oh.

_"If I wanted to kiss a boy, couldn't I just... kiss him?"_

Anne bit her lip for just a moment before returning the hopeful smile Gilbert had was giving her now. She lifted her hands to hold his face, and, rising ever so slightly onto her toes, she leaned up to kiss him.

One of his hands came up to her cheek as he kissed her back, and then the reality of what she'd done hit her, and Anne dropped her hands and pulled back, eyes wide. A small well of panic formed in her chest, and she wrung her hands. "I, um…" Gilbert's hand was still on Anne's cheek, and she started a bit when he brushed his thumb across her cheekbone. Her breath caught in her throat.

"Anne…" Gilbert drew a deep breath, but continued speaking just above a whisper. "Please tell me… you meant that? The same way I did, I mean. Tell me that—that you have the same feelings for me as I do for you. Tell me that… you love me?"

His heart was visibly in his throat as he waited for Anne to speak.

Anne took her own deep breath. She'd blinked twice when he'd said "love", but she hadn't moved otherwise. If you'd asked her five minutes ago what her feelings were for Gilbert Blythe—whether or not she loved him—she would not have been able to answer. But here, in the quiet space between heartbeats, she _knew_.

She took her hand and placed it over Gilbert's on her cheek. "Yes. Yes, I love you. Which—I think—" her eyes flicked away for the briefest second before coming back to his "—must mean that… you love me?" she trailed off hopefully.

Half her answer came in the form of Gilbert leaning in and kissing her again, just a little harder and a little longer than Anne had kissed him. He pulled back just far enough to rest his forehead against hers. "Yes. I love you, Anne."

An almost soundless giggle escaped Anne. "In my wildest dreams, this is not how I had imagined this. But I wouldn't trade this for anything else." She shifted to kiss Gilbert again, only to have him meet her half way.

Anne shuffled a half-step closer, her breath hitching just a bit when Gilbert's free hand went to her waist, and he opened his mouth against hers. Anne grabbed onto his vest, not entirely meaning to, but feeling like her legs might not continue to support her if she didn't. Her other hand moved from Gilbert's hand—still gently caressing her cheek—to his hair. Gilbert tightened the arm around her waist and slid the hand on Anne's cheek into her hair.

Neither of them would ever be able to guess how long it was that they continued to embrace under the moonlight. When Anne finally broke away, breathing hard and feeling just a little lightheaded, Gilbert didn't let her go, drawing the hand in Anne's hair through it, then down her back to her waist. Anne shivered.

"Sorry; I know it's not exactly warm right now." Gilbert smiled at her.

Anne gave him a half-smile, allowing Gilbert to think it was the temperature and not his hand tracing her spine that was setting every nerve of hers alight.

It was no better when he dropped his hands to grab Anne’s and the sides of his hands completely unintentionally brushed across her hips. Anne shook her head just the tiniest bit to clear it in time enough to hear Gilbert ask her a question. "So, tell me, what is it you’d imagined this moment to be like?"

Anne tilted her head and swung their joined hands just a little. "I suppose… I don’t really know. In the rain, perhaps, after a desperate, tragic love confession?"

"Not on a soft summer day, say in the middle of an apple orchard?" Gilbert teased.

Anne raised an eyebrow. "That’s rather specific."

"And yet, I would have made it work," Gilbert assured her with a daring smile. "All I’d have to do is suggest to Bash that Hazel take the day off from minding Dellie, mention it around you, and you’d be there."

"You’re overestimating your charms," Anne laughed.

It was Gilbert’s turn to raise his eyebrows. "So I have charms, do I?"

Anne scoffed. "Gilbert Blythe, you know perfectly well that you are charming—I have seen you use it to your advantage many a time!"

"Yes, but now I know _you_ find me charming." Gilbert kissed her hands.

Anne rolled her eyes fondly before realizing it was too dark. "The lantern’s out."

With the moon bright as it was, they could still see fairly well, but Gilbert quickly trailed a hand back up Anne’s arm to her shoulder, then her cheek before leaning in for another long kiss which Anne all-too-happily returned.

When they finally parted, Anne tucked her head toward her shoulder and yawned. "It must be after midnight. I should really get home. And so should you." She released one of Gilbert’s hands so he could pick up the lantern, and they started walking.

When they reached the porch to Green Gables, after Anne noted that the candles were out for the night and Matthew and Marilla were most likely asleep, she turned to face Gilbert. "I’m not… sure I want to tell Marilla and Matthew just yet. I suppose since you’ve already concocted the story for me, I can come over tomorrow and watch Dellie. I’m sure Hazel won’t mind."

"I know I certainly won’t." Gilbert pulled their joined hands up to kiss the back of Anne’s.

She smiled sleepily, but contentedly. "Good night, Gilbert."

"Good night, Anne," Gilbert squeezed Anne’s hand and released it, turning to go, when Anne caught his shoulder and kissed him, sighing as Gilbert kissed her back. They lingered just a moment, then Anne pulled back and slowly made her way into Green Gables and up the stairs, bidding Marilla a weary good night when called to.

Before changing, Anne went to her window and looked out at the moon and the Snow Queen, expecting to see Gilbert on his way. Instead, he was looking up at her window. Anne brought her candle to the window and fluttered her fingers, smiling as Gilbert bowed slightly, as though they’d just finished dancing. Anne bobbed a curtsy, and Gilbert turned to go. Anne slowly prepared for bed, dozing off several times on top of her covers before finally crawling under them and drifting off, a smile on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was originally where this ended. And then, I was like, "Well, as long as I'm changing stuff, I'm giving Ka'kwet a happy ending and proving that this show can weather these two getting together!"


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a really hard chapter to write, in large part because several characters say some incredibly vile things about the Mi'kmaq. It was really uncomfortable to write those things because they run so contrary to my own views, but they are period-accurate. What happened to Ka'kwet (and worse) was a reality, and my intention is not to whitewash that with this. This chapter is purely to give Ka'kwet the closure that she and countless children deserved but did not get.
> 
> Additionally, the first half of this chapter got a last-minute re-write because it just too reliant on coincidences, even more so than the current version. That said, I have a nasty head cold at the moment, so if something's wonky, it's probably due to me not properly re-working a reference to what was there before.

Anne yawned for the umpteenth time as she lounged against one of the trees.

"Keep yawning, and we might have to have Delphine watching _you_ ," Gilbert teased.

"It's hardly my fault the celebration last night went as late as it did!" Anne protested.

"That the celebration went late, no." Gilbert came over to kneel by her side. "But I seem to recall you giving the first kiss on our walk home. And the last one." He leaned in to kiss Anne very gently.

Despite her blissful smile, Anne instructed, "Stop it! I haven't told Marilla and Matthew, and if the wrong person comes by, we're as good as married!" She sat bolt upright and blinked. "Not that I don't… well, not right this moment, I mean, but someday—"

"I get it, Anne," Gilbert laughed affectionately. "'Someday' is certainly good enough for now." He tweaked the end of her single braid before standing upright.

It was such an easy thing to say at the start of a courtship— _courtship!_ Butterflies had nearly burst from Anne when they'd first agreed on it, but even now, she could hardly contain herself at so much as the thought of the word—but Anne couldn't help the warmth that spread through her at the implication that the notion of being married to her was agreeable to Gilbert. The future was uncertain, but Anne allowed herself to slip into wonderful daydreams of what it might look like by Gilbert's side, and didn't notice the men riding up by the edge of the orchard until…

"You there!" a harsh voice called from the other side of the fence.

Anne nearly jumped out of her skin as Gilbert greeted the men.

"Have either of you seen a little savage girl come through this way? Maybe twelve years old or so? Looking for her own kind?"

Gilbert shook his head. "Can't say I have. Is something wrong?"

The other man—the one who looked to be the meaner of the two—replied, "The filthy little heathen slipped the residential school in Nova Scotia. We think she came back here to round up her own and… well, I don't like to think what they'd do to anyone they think might have wronged them. We're waiting on the Indian Agent to guide us to their nest. We'll get her back there however we have to."

Anne thought quickly. "I think I saw them heading out to the south last week. Maybe they're headed to the mainland."

"We'll take that under advisement, miss," the less-angry one said almost politely.

Anne tried to turn up the charm. "Will that be all? We'd like to get back to work."

It was at that moment that Dellie started fussing. Anne held the baby closer, bouncing her and whispering soothing things.

The men leered in Anne's direction. "You're a bit young," one of them said.

Anne was about to reply when Gilbert stepped in. "Pardon me, but I don't see how my teething niece is any of your concern. I'm just lucky to have someone to help out." He shot a grateful look at Anne before looking back to the men. "If we're done here?"

The men nodded and rode off in the direction Anne had indicated. Once they were out of sight, Anne sat right back down, and Gilbert leaned against the tree he'd been standing beside. Anne looked up at him. "I don't like the sound of that at all."

Gilbert shook his head. "I don't, either. I've never heard of a school where they'd send men with guns to take back a student who left."

"That's what worries me." Anne pushed herself to her feet and took a deep breath. "I have to go with her to warn her family; I don't think they're looking to take her back peacefully."

Gilbert shook his head. "No. If they aren't looking for peace, then you can't… you should get someone to help you."

"Who will?" Anne asked morosely. "You've seen how they're treated here. Who but a very few of us will be willing to actually stand up against those men?!"

"I'm coming with you," Gilbert told her. "If nothing else, I can try and distract those men; say that I found a trail and lead them away."

Anne nodded, and they went to leave Dellie with Hazel before heading to the barn.

As they finished saddling the horse, Anne admitted, "Believe it or not, this is something I'd really rather _not_ do. I am scared out of my mind about it. But this is what I have to do." She flung her arms around Gilbert, letting out one short, terrified sob. Gilbert embraced her as tightly as he could before releasing her.

Gilbert swallowed. He didn't like this at all. But Anne was right. "I don't like it, either, but you're right; standing by just… we can't."

Gilbert boosted her into the saddle before climbing up himself, and they rode off.

* * *

It was far too quiet.

"Anne?" Gilbert called softly. "Anne, where are you?" He urged his horse forward in the direction Anne had given him when she'd dismounted earlier to part ways. He could near soft sobbing.

He dismounted and walked the horse just a little further before tying the reins to a nearby branch. Anne was sitting with her back to a nearby tree, her head in her hands.

"Anne…" he sat down next to her. "Anne, what's happened? Is Ka'kwet…?"

"They're safe… I hope…" Anne gasped. "I got here just in time to tell everyone to hide."

* * *

_Anne took a breath and stepped into the Mi'kmaq village. Several of the people there looked up. Mimikej darted into a wigwam, and pulled out a familiar young girl with hair much shorter than any of the others were wearing._

_Anne gasped. "Ka'kwet!" She dashed over to hug the girl. She was a little puzzled when Ka'kwet's arms came around her only loosely. She backed away. "Ka'kwet, what… what happened? Did something happen at the school? Who did this?!"_

_"You… did not know that they would do this?" Ka'kwet asked cautiously._

_Anne shook her head. "I worried when I came to visit and the nun said they weren't allowing visitors, but never did I think… Oh, Ka'kwet, I'm so sorry!" She grabbed one of Ka'kwet's hands to hold it to her heart for a moment, but looked down. There were scars._

_"The priest… Father Beck. He had a… a strap. If we did not do as we were told, we were beaten," Ka'kwet said quietly, her tone flat otherwise._

_"They **what**?!" Anne cried._

_"We were beaten often. Told not to speak our languages. Told we are stupid. That the way we live is wrong. 'God willing, we will kill the Indian, but save the child.' That is what they said," Ka'kwet repeated._

_Anne turned to Ka'kwet. "What else did they do? What did I… what did I send you into? Ka'kwet, I'm so, so sorry! If I'd known…" She began to cry. "I wish I could take it all back. Not knowing you, of course, but everything about the school… This is not what I wanted for you, and I know it's not what you wanted. I don't know how I can ever make this up to you."_

_Ka'kwet threw her arms around Anne. "Thank you, Melkita'ulamun, for being such a good friend."_

_Anne hugged Ka'kwet tightly._

* * *

"The Indian Agent almost saw me, I think, but one of those horrible men told him they had to pack up and keep going, so they did. I was so scared…" She was shaking. "They're safely headed to the east, but…" She shook her head. "This is all my fault!"

"It's not your fault, Anne." Gilbert took her hands. "You expected, reasonably, I might add, that school for Ka'kwet would be what it is for us with maybe a little extra education here or there about things we might not have to think about. Maybe it would have been prudent to do a little more investigation, but you could not have known it would be this bad. You would never have been shown what it looked like." He pulled her into a hug. "And when you found out you were wrong, you did what you could to correct it and keep Ka'kwet or anyone she cares about from having to go back. That's all anyone can ask of you." He gave her a quick squeeze and released her. "Let's get back and see what we can do there."

* * *

"How dare you go into the woods as good as unaccompanied!" Marilla scolded. "You could've been killed by those Indians!"

"Mi'kmaq!" Anne cried back. "And if anyone was going to hurt anyone, it would be those men coming after Ka'kwet!"

"So you were in danger either way!" Marilla gasped.

Anne shook her head. "No! And even… even if I was, I'm safe now!" She took a breath. "If it could have been done any other way, I would have done it, but there was no time, and Gilbert agreed! He came with!"

"There still wouldn't have been anyone to do anything if you had both met harm!" Marilla was back on the warpath. She rounded on Gilbert. "You are a sensible young man, Gilbert, so I am considering this a considerable but momentary lapse in judgment, but you had best believe I will be discussing this with Sebastian."

Gilbert finally spoke. "Miss Cuthbert, the girl—Ka'kwet—she was beaten. Tortured. In much the same way—or possibly worse—than Anne was at the orphanage and in her other placements, if what Anne has hinted at is any indication. Whether you regard her as a heathen or not, is that any way to steer a child on the right course?"

His words stopped Marilla in her tracks. She gaped at Gilbert, then looked back to Matthew. "Gilbert… he has a point," was all Matthew would say.

"That does not negate that you put yourself in terrible danger," Marilla told her. "The men who would go hunt that girl down… If this place is as bad as she says… If the disposition of those men is as you've said, which is something I cannot doubt… Anne, I just want you to be _safe._ Is that so much to ask?!"

At that moment, the door opened. "Marilla! You will never guess—oh! What, pray tell, am I interrupting?" Mrs. Lynde asked, eyes glittering.

Anne stood, fury emanating from every inch of her. "Mrs. Lynde," she said quietly. "Did you know what you were sending Ka'kwet into?"

Rachel blinked. "Who?"

"Ka'kwet. The Mi'kmaq girl. My _friend_ ," Anne clarified, still sounding eerily calm. "Did you know that she would be beaten? That she would be told she is stupid and worthless for the circumstances of her birth? That she would be told that her family's love means nothing and that she is destined to burn for the way her people have lived since long before any of us were here?"

Mrs. Lynde sighed. "I don't expect you to understand," she said patiently. "I can see how you, especially, would sympathize with them. But really, Anne, it's a new world, and they must learn to live in it."

Anne finally lost her temper. "Learning to live in a new world is hardly the same as telling someone they are worthless!"

"So what value do they bring, hmm?" Rachel wanted to know. "They skulk in the woods and ignore the rules we have imposed. They do not understand our values and do not want to—"

"And _you_ don't want to understand _theirs_!" Anne retorted. "They live a simple life; I don't see what's so wrong with that!"

Rachel tried a different tack. "They are base, and violent—"

Anne scoffed. "How many of us have the Mi'kmaq hurt? Even when I've seen the folk of Avonlea treat them reprehensibly, they have never once responded with violence!"

"Only because we have shown them that that kind of response will not be brooked. Which, clearly, has not been demonstrated to you!" Rachel snapped, taking a step toward Anne. "I've been telling Marilla for _years_ that you ought to be made to pick your own switch. It's been clear to me from the beginning that you will willfully disregard any other so-called punishment your guardians mete out! If you were my charge, your temper would have been beaten out of you long ago!"

Gilbert and Marilla both stood at the same time, but it was Matthew who spoke. "Rachel, you've as good as threatened my daughter, and I will now kindly ask you to leave."

Rachel opened and closed her mouth several times like a fish, and Marilla added, "And we expect you not to return until you understand that our love has raised Anne into a young woman of whom we are exceedingly proud. Even if… even if we don't always see eye to eye, Anne fights for what she believes is right, and she does it _without_ resorting to violence, which is more than I can say for you at the current moment. Now please…" she walked over to the door. "Allow me to see you out."

"One moment." Gilbert had chosen to stay quiet until now. "Mrs. Lynde, I assume that nothing I say will change your mind, but, given everyone else's impassioned defenses, I can't help but feel moved to try, myself. Have you actually stopped to think what it would be like if the shoe were on the other foot? If it was your child being told that their entire existence—an existence that their parents and grandparents and great-grandparents have all shared with little issue—was wrong? You've said that times are changing, and yet, there are many changes in the last three years that you yourself have resisted. I urge you to really take a moment to think about which changes are necessary, and whether you are really so different from those you seek to change."

Rachel _tsk_ -ed and swept out, Marilla shutting the door firmly behind her.

Anne took a breath that was shaky with emotion. "Thank you, all, for… for speaking in defense of Ka'kwet. I am sorry that I put myself in danger today to help her, but really, if there had been another option, I would have taken it. It was an action born of desperation, and I have to stand by it."

Matthew came over to hug her. "You are safe now, and that is what must matter."

"Thank you, Matthew," Anne croaked. "I think I just need to… continue on with my day. I'm going to go back with Gilbert and keep watching Delphine. I won't leave again without letting you know, and I'll be home in time to do my chores before dinner." She and Gilbert looked to Marilla, who, with a look that said it was against her better judgment and that they would absolutely talk about this again later, nodded. Gilbert went to the door and held it for Anne, who slumped out.

Gilbert waited until they'd gone past the fence to slide his hand into Anne's, giving it a gentle squeeze. She gave a brief one of her own back, but her heart wasn't in it.

When they were half-way between their properties, Anne finally dissolved into tears. Without any hesitation, Gilbert wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, resting his chin against the side of Anne's head. Anne's head was still in her hands.

"It's all so much!" Anne sobbed. "Even if all of this… mess with Ka'kwet hadn't happened, Josie still doesn't like me all that much, and neither do people like Mrs. Lynde, and the school… it was burned down! What is Miss Stacy going to do? And I may have fixed my friendship with Diana, but her parents will almost certainly never let her go to Queen's no matter how much anyone begs or cries, but especially if that person is me, and you… you're going off to Toronto. And I couldn't be happier for you, really, because you have to pursue this dream! But we've only just…" She sobbed another couple times before collecting herself enough to any another word. "I just want one good thing after most of a lifetime of misery."

Gilbert took several minutes to think while Anne kept crying.

"I know this isn't going to sound helpful," he said carefully, "but a lot of those problems, you just can't solve on your own. You've done what you can, and believe me, there are a lot of people in Avonlea who couldn't be prouder of you, and if you don't believe me, you can ask the Cuthberts, or Bash, or Miss Stacy, and they will tell you." He sighed. "Maybe… it's time for a change of pace?" He felt Anne's sobs start letting up. "I can't believe that you won't have the scores to get into the University of Toronto. It's a bigger city; it'll be more open-minded. You don't have to give up on Avonlea, but I don't want to see your heart keep on getting shattered when the progress you want to see can't be achieved just now and there's nothing you can do about it." He slowly loosened his grip and backed up, looking her in her eyes. She was so exhausted and hurt, and even though his question clearly thrilled her, he could tell that her answer was not going to be a simple "yes."

"It's not that the idea isn't incredibly appealing, because it absolutely is," Anne began.

"But…" Gilbert sighed, trying not to sound too disappointed. His lips twisted into a rueful smile.

Anne nodded. "I'm just… I don't think I'm quite ready to leave the place—the people—I've come to call home, even when it's not the easiest place to be. And honestly, I feel… too young. I'm sixteen, and while that opened up a world of possibility—of coming into my own—there's nothing quite like graduating to make you realize just how much you don't know." She took both of Gilbert's hands. "It won't be an easy two years apart, but once that's done and I start pursuing a higher degree, Toronto is definitely in the cards."

Gilbert let out a long breath. "I can't say I'm not disappointed, but it's not like that's not the answer I figured I was likely to get. I respect that. We'll make it work—I'm not ready to call it quits after…" he thought for a moment. "Wow. It hasn't even been a day. Feels like a lot longer."

Anne laughed. "It does. Probably because we knew to some extent how we felt for a lot longer than we were willing to admit to anyone."

"Especially ourselves," Gilbert added.

" _Especially_ ourselves," agreed Anne. She ran her thumbs along Gilbert's. "Thank you for understanding nonetheless. You…" She sighed. "I'm not sure I have the words right now. But I love you. And that is something I know I can depend on." She stood on her toes and gave him a quick kiss, then rocked back onto her heels with another sigh. "I suppose we should actually do what I said we were going to and have me watch Dellie while you work some more." She let go of one of his hands and turned to walk, but Gilbert tugged on the pair of their hands that was still joined, turning Anne back around for another long kiss.

"Sorry," he said when he finally pulled away. "I just want to make the most of the time we have left."

Anne smirked. "I don't recall complaining."

Gilbert gave her that grin that said she'd bested him once again (and that he wasn't complaining about it, either), and they kept on walking.


	10. Chapter 10

The class milled nervously around Miss Stacy's front room, only slightly less frantic than they had been on the exam day. Jane was once again fanning herself with her hands, Moody was once again hyperventilating, and Diana was once again very nearly late, having just narrowly gotten out of the house on time. Anne and Gilbert had been very good about not exchanging too many glances. Diana had caught them at it once, but Anne had brushed it off as this being the culmination of their competition.

When Miss Stacy walked into the room, an unnaturally complete hush fell over the graduates. "Alright everyone. I have with me the results of your Queen's entrance exam. Whatever the outcome, I want you to know how proud I am of all of you, and how you have conducted yourselves. You have made both myself and Avonlea very proud. Now, without further ado…" She placed the paper on the table in front of her. "Have at it!"

Diana had Anne's hand in a death grip. "I'm sure I didn't get in," she whispered. "There's just no possible way…"

"Diana got in!" Jane squealed.

Anne let out a victorious whoop and hugged her friend.

"Moody, how are you in the top half?" jeered Charlie.

"How are you in the bottom quarter?" Moody shot back.

"Shut up! You know I'm not!"

"Anne and Gilbert tied for first!" Tillie cried.

Anne barely registered the words before Diana squeaked excitedly and returned Anne's embrace, along with Ruby. Laughing, Anne looked over their heads and across the room to Gilbert, who had the most wonderful mix of smugness and pride written across his features. _Congratulations,_ he mouthed.

Anne nodded. _You too._

"Like that was ever going to turn out any other way!" Moody laughed, clapping Gilbert on the shoulder.

"Who came in closest after them?" one of the Pauls wanted to know.

Josie scanned the list. "Jane, naturally, and then me… Charlie… Tillie, Paul L… Paul M… Diana, Moody, Ruby… " She read off the rest of the names, adding "And not a one of us in the bottom quarter of acceptance!"

The class cheered and started filing out while still chattering excitedly as Miss Stacy bid them good bye.

* * *

"This day could hardly have turned out better! We're going to be roommates, Diana!" Anne enthused, clasping Diana's arm.

"We hope…" Diana sighed.

"We will be!" Anne turned to look at Diana. "You have to have faith, Diana! As long as you have that, there is still the possibility that they will see that sending you to Queen's is truly in your best interest!"

Diana shook her head. "They still think my best interest is going to finishing school and marrying well. Aunt Jo has tried subtly moving the needle in my direction, but Father has the unfortunate tendency to dismiss her advice and Mother thinks there is only one possible path in life for me."

They reached the branch leading off to Diana's house. "Well, this is me. Wish me luck?"

"Good luck." Anne held up her pinkie. "We need a new one!" She thought. "Seven days… until we spread our wings and soar."

The girls linked pinkies and repeated the affirmation before embracing tightly, then, heaving another sigh, Diana trudged off toward her house.

* * *

It was only a couple hours later that Anne stormed furiously up to the Barry house, hurt beyond all belief.

"Diana, you will never believe what Matthew said while we were picking corn!" she fumed as she entered her best friend's room.

Diana lay motionless on her bed, and Anne immediately deflated. "Di… what's happened?"

"...I can't fly," Diana sobbed. "I'm going to Paris no matter what I say or do."

"Oh, Diana…" Anne lay down next to her friend and hugged her close. "They've clipped your wings."

Diana nodded, tears streaming down her face. "I should have known this was all just a fantasy."

Anne shook her head. "It's not. You, Diana Barry, are intelligent, charming, and a gifted musician. You have so much to bring to the world, and any way life takes you, you will do well." She sighed. "But there has to be some way we can get your parents to relent. If not us, then someone…" She sat up. "Let's go for a walk. I think… maybe… I know someone who can help."

The girls sneaked down the stairs and out the door.

Diana was already a little more at ease once they were out in the fresh air. Anne, however, was looking sadder than ever. "It's bad enough Matthew doesn't care that I'm leaving," she lamented, "but _two_ of my favorite people won't be attending Queen's."

Diana rubbed Anne's arm. "I'm sure Matthew does care, Anne. But you know better than anyone except Marilla how he is."

"He keeps on talking about practical decisions, and acting like I'm already gone and never coming back!" Anne wailed.

"Try talking with him," Diana suggested. "Really talking with him, in a calm moment. Matthew loves you. And, unlike my parents, he really does want what is best for you. I'm sure he's just trying to make it easy and doesn't know how."

Anne took several deep breaths. "Thank you, Diana. I needed someone to tell me that."

"Marilla didn't?" Diana asked.

Anne grimaced. "I think she was trying to, and I… ran away."

Diana had to giggle just a little. "You wouldn't be Anne if you didn't." She let that settle for a moment before broaching the other topic that Anne had mentioned. "Who else isn't going to Queen's?"

"Oh! Um…" Anne could feel the blush creeping up her neck already, but there was no way to walk this back. "Gilbert, actually. He, um, is going to be attending the University of Toronto, studying under a friend of Miss Stacy's. He wants to do medical research."

"I see." Diana nodded. "And what about the part where he is now included in your favorite people? How recent is this?" She stopped. "Anne, don't tell me…"

_Well, this cat's out of the bag…_ "Don't tell you what?" Anne tried to ask as if she had no clue what Diana might be getting at, and the grin spreading across her face despite her best efforts completely ruining any chance she had. 

"Don't tell me it's nothing. Tell me everything! Are you courting? When did this happen? Was it the night after the entrance exam? Was that what happened when we were playing capture the flag?" Diana was positively beaming.

Anne let out a giddy laugh. "One question at a time!"

"Are you courting?" At Anne's nod, Diana let out a triumphant cry. "When did this start?!"

"It was the night of graduation, but not during the game of capture the flag. It was when we were walking home… What is that smug grin all about?" Anne wanted to know.

Diana shrugged. "We may have been placing friendly bets on how soon you two would figure it out after you started walking home. Charlie was under the impression you were already secretly courting, poor thing. But I'm not going to let you distract me from the story, Anne! Tell me what happened!"

Anne rolled her eyes. "It was… when he told me he wouldn't be attending Queen's," she admitted. "We agreed to write each other, and I think we both realized that being that far apart was going to be more upsetting than we'd anticipated. And then I realized why—well, sort of, because what I realized was that I wanted to…" she trailed off, her cheeks very, very pink.

"Did he kiss you?" Diana gasped.

Slowly, Anne nodded. "After I kissed him first, yes."

Diana covered her mouth with both of her hands and let out a muffled shriek. "Anne! That's… What… _Anne!_ "

"We haven't told anyone," Anne told her quickly. "We didn't really want to be dealing with the rules and regulations and especially not Mrs. Lynde when we had so little time left together."

Diana nodded. "I can understand that." She squeezed Anne's arm. "How exciting! I was beginning to think you'd never acknowledge it, especially since nothing came out of everything that happened at the fair."

Anne groaned. "Did the whole of Avonlea see this coming?" she groused.

Diana shrugged. "Probably," she replied brightly. "I know I did."

Anne rolled her eyes. "Come on. Let's go tell Marilla about your plight. I think she might be able to help."

* * *

After Marilla left to speak with Eliza, Anne and Diana sat in the kitchen eating scones as Anne gave Diana a more detailed account of the graduation night.

"Good lord, this is something straight out of a novel!" Diana gasped when Anne recounted Gilbert bowing to her after they'd won capture the flag. "Now, the walk home, Anne. Every. Detail."

Anne regaled her with as much as she could remember clearly. "I was tired, you know, and the moonshine made everything a bit hazy…"

"You seem to remember kissing him first well enough!" cackled Diana.

"Well, I lost track after a little while," Anne admitted, unable to hide a smile as Diana let out another delighted laugh. "But it was magical and wonderful and I just… didn't want it to end."

Diana's face grew serious. "You don't just have a crush on him, do you?" she asked. "Anne, you love him."

Anne sighed and nodded. "I do. I didn't know until that night, but this can hardly be anything else, can it?"

Diana shrugged. "I'm not sure I'm qualified to say, but I don't think there will ever be anyone else for either of you. Your feelings haven't gone away; they've only gotten stronger with time. And even though you had to make a hard decision about staying here, you made it. I know that you're not happy about it, but it shows that your head's not clouded. That you're secure. I can only hope that, wherever my life leads me, I will find the same certainty."

Anne was holding back tears. "At least you and I will always be friends. I know that just as deeply."

"Of course!" Diana grabbed Anne's hand. "And as my friend, you will, of course, pack me in a suitcase and take me with you to Queen's, won't you?" She half-joked, before considering the notion more seriously. "I'm sure Aunt Jo would host me." She sighed. "Still, my parents would get the law involved and I'd be sent off anyway."

Anne squeezed Diana's hands. "Marilla has a way of convincing people. We just have to hold out hope."

Diana nodded. "I'd better head home. I'm sure it'll be bed without supper tonight, but Marilla's help and your exciting news… it's worth it. And I promise I'll keep quiet about it."

The girls stood and embraced, and Diana took her leave. Not ten minutes later, as Anne anxiously paced while awaiting Marilla's return, a knock sounded at the door.

"Gilbert!" Anne wrapped her arms around him and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

He smiled tenderly at her. "I'm done with my afternoon chores, and I was hoping that you might want to come on a walk with me."

Anne nodded, scrawling a note on a shopping list. "I may have… massaged the truth a little, but it's for the best for now," she explained as they walked.

"We really should at least tell Bash and Marilla and Matthew," Gilbert urged.

"When we're both safely away!" Anne insisted. "I will write Marilla and Matthew a letter as soon as I'm situated at Queen's. I don't want to be scolded for the time we've already spent unchaperoned. Unless, that is, you want Bash's mother or Mrs. Lynde following us everywhere…"

Gilbert blanched. "Oh, God, no…" He gripped Anne's hand tighter.

Anne let out a breathy laugh. "I thought not."

* * *

They'd wandered out away from where they were most likely to be spotted.

"I just realized today…" Anne said quietly. "I'll miss you, of course, like I've never missed anything, but Avonlea… I'll miss this so much, too." She leaned her head against Gilbert's shoulder. "And yet, it seems as though Matthew… he won't miss me."

Gilbert blinked. "That's not possible. He loves you—you're his daughter. What could possibly give you this idea?"

"He's been saying I'll never come back. Everything is a 'practical decision', and he's shutting me out. He won't listen to me when I tell him that Green Gables is the only real home I have ever known!" Frustrated tears started to leak from Anne's eyes. "Marilla is telling me he's just having a hard time adjusting, but so am I! I want him to know that I love him and that we are still a family; that—that I still need him. Now more than ever. This is a big change for me and I just… I'm scared. I know that everything will turn out fine, but everything is fine as it is now!"

Gilbert pulled Anne into a tight hug.

"I'm sorry," Anne quavered. "I know that this can't be easy for you, either."

"It's definitely not," Gilbert agreed. "But knowing that it's hard for you… it makes it almost bearable." He let out a bit of chuckle. "Sorry if that sounds unkind."

Anne shook her head against his shoulder. "No, no; I feel the same way." She sniffled. "I promise to write you every day. I want to tell you about everything. I want you to feel like… you're here."

"A letter a day might be a bit much for me to promise," Gilbert said honestly, "but I can say that I do want to know everything that's happening, and I want to tell you what's happening so that you feel like I'm there, too."

Anne pulled back. "Would it be too silly or too… forward if… if I embroidered something for you? I'm not terribly good at it, but I can manage neat enough initials." She bit her lip.

Gilbert brought a hand up to her cheek. "I'd like that very much. I'm just afraid I don't have anything to give you in return."

"You already bought that rosette for me," Anne reminded him.

"That's not enough. I'd like it to be something of _mine,_ or at least something that I've created for you somehow." He thought. The one thing he knew he had seemed far too forward just yet. "I suppose… I'll have to learn how to knit."

They both laughed.

"It's not necessary," Anne assured him. "I won't complain about having a token of your affection, of course, but I couldn't not know that you love me when you look at me… like you are right now," she finished shyly.

Gilbert's only reply was to lean in and capture Anne's lips with his, with no intention of letting her go anytime soon.

* * *

"Well, I guess this is it." Gilbert looked at his friends and family. His eyes were definitely shining just a little, as it was now hitting all of them just how far away Toronto really was now that he was on his way with most of his worldly possessions in tow.

"Don't be a stranger." Bash hugged Gilbert tightly. "You keep in touch, and come home anytime. I'll keep you updated on everything here."

"I'll hold you to that." Gilbert returned Bash's hug before taking Dellie for a moment and cuddling her and giving her forehead a kiss. "Don't grow up too fast, okay? I need a baby niece to spoil for a little while longer." He handed Dellie back and looked at Matthew and Marilla.

Marilla stepped forward first, extending her hand, then forsaking some of her usual decorum and embracing Gilbert. "I am so proud of you. You're becoming the man you want to. John… he'd have supported every single choice you've made."

Gilbert nodded. "Thank you, Miss Cuthbert."

Matthew clasped Gilbert's hands with his. He simply nodded at Gilbert and smiled. Gilbert returned the gesture.

Anne felt ready to faint. They'd known this was coming, and they'd known it was going to be difficult, but not this hard, especially now that Gilbert was before her. Uncharacteristically out of words, she choked back a sob and threw her arms around Gilbert, who returned the hug with fairly equal enthusiasm.

"Anne, Gilbert: this is not proper!" Marilla chided, but she couldn't keep the sad smile from her face, and Matthew and Bash were openly grinning, as well.

"Promise me you'll write often?" Anne requested hopefully as she drew back, blushing madly.

"I can't promise any regularity until I know what my course load looks like, but absolutely. I am not letting you forget what I feel for you." He tugged on one of Anne's hands to pull her close again, then wrapped the other around her waist and kissed her quite soundly. Anne knew propriety (and self-preservation for the next day) dictated that she should pull away, but instead wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back.

"Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, you will explain what on earth is happening!" demanded a very shocked (but surprisingly not terribly scandalized) Marilla.

The pair broke apart. Anne bit her lip against a smile as Gilbert laughed a little nervously.

"I think it's pretty obvious," Bash joked laughingly. "Took you two long enough."

Marilla was vacillating between shocked outrage and shocked excitement. "Sebastian, you are _not_ helping!"

Their words faded into the background as Gilbert boarded the train. Anne wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, only for Gilbert to reappear in the window just above her. She could see just well enough to make out the words when he mouthed _I love you._

Anne mouthed them back just as the train started to move. She was able to refrain from breaking down sobbing for all of five seconds, after which she buried her head in her hands. She could feel in her vest pocket the letter Gilbert had slid into her hand as Anne had hugged him. She'd read it later, when she'd had a moment to recover and remind herself that everything would be fine and that they'd make it through. They had each other now, after all, and they were going to make sure nothing changed that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of that! I did leave it kind of open, but with the intent that things ended more or less the same way, with Diana going to Queen's and Anne finding out about her parents.
> 
> I'll probably have something new out in a couple weeks, but between life craziness and the worst head cold I have had in a decade, I am promising nothing other than that there are things in the works.
> 
> Thank you, as always, for coming on yet another journey with me! Let me know what you thought!


End file.
